Here’s My Story: The Rebbe’s Tefillin

Mr. Shelly Baer

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When I was drafted into the US Army in 1959, I went to see the Rebbe for a blessing, which he gave me. The Rebbe’s blessings don’t expire, so I didn’t think there was a need for another one after I got orders to ship out to Korea — back then, a site of continued armed conflict despite the armistice of 1953. So, imagine my surprise when I went to bid goodbye to my mother and she said, “Sholom, we got a call from Chabad Headquarters. The Rebbe wants to see you.”

Of course, I went right away. The Rebbe greeted me with a big smile and opened with, “I hear you’re going overseas. To Korea, no?”

When I confirmed that this was indeed the case, he summoned his secretary, who came in carrying a tefillin bag, which he put on the Rebbe’s desk. “Sholom, I’m sending you with these tefillin,” the Rebbe said.

Now, I owned a perfectly good pair of tefillin from the time of my Bar Mitzvah, which had taken place just five years prior, so I didn’t see why I needed another pair, but the Rebbe didn’t explain. He merely said, “I want you to promise me that you are going to put these on every day and say the Shema.”

Because I was confused, I failed to reply, which caused the Rebbe to prompt, “I didn’t hear your promise!” So, I finally did promise to do what he requested. Satisfied, the Rebbe then said, “I want to prepare you that it will be hard over there. Very hard. And, if for any reason you are unable to put on these tefillin, you must still say the Shema.”

Not understanding any of it, but trusting the Rebbe, I set off. The flight to Korea started in California with stops in Hawaii, Wake Island, and Japan before arriving at the final destination.

When we stopped in Hawaii for refueling and all of us recruits were sitting around waiting to reboard, I decided to stand up and stretch my legs a bit. It proved a momentous decision because just then a colonel I had never seen before came forward, declaring that he had to get on that plane, which meant one of us had to stay behind.

Since I was already standing, I was picked. I was not at all happy because this meant I’d be stuck on the tarmac waiting for hours for the next plane out.

When I eventually arrived and tried to find out how I could rejoin my outfit, I learned that the plane I was supposed to be on was missing. Nobody seemed to know what happened to it, but radio contact with the pilot was lost some time ago. I was in shock, but I realized that, of all the people aboard that plane, I was probably the only one who was still alive.

I was reassigned to a different group — a bunch of Southerners who didn’t like Jews and they made sure to tell me that, particularly the sergeant.

Now, come morning, I had to put on tefillin like I promised. I tried to be inconspicuous but, of course, that was impossible. It didn’t go over well with them, and the sergeant made a point of assigning me the worst jobs. He even tried to prevent me from attending a religious retreat to which I was entitled.

In order to make that retreat in time, I had to hitch a ride on a two-man plane, which stalled out in mid-air. The pilot was doing his best to restart the engine, and when that failed, he tried to glide the plane into a rice paddy. But just before we hit the ground, the engine caught and we were saved.

I didn’t make the connection between my rescue with the Rebbe’s tefillin, which I was clutching during that terrifying ride. I had them with me because I took them wherever I went, fearing what might happen to them while I was gone. Truth be told though, I had stopped putting them on due to the harassment by the sergeant. Whenever he saw me with them, he would go off his rocker, and he was scaring me. I realized what the Rebbe meant when he said that it was going to become very hard. This was clearly the hard part. (Little did I know that more hard stuff was coming.) Meanwhile, I did what I could — I just said the Shema.

Then I got a letter from my mother. She wrote, “My dear son Sholom. I just received word from Chabad that the Rebbe said you are not keeping your promise.” I broke out into a cold sweat: How did he know?!
I realized that I had to transfer to a different unit, but the only option available was Camp Essayons, which was home to combat engineers who went behind enemy lines to blow up missile sites, bridges and land mines. It was dangerous work but, as far as I was concerned, it was better than suffering in my current unit, where I was afraid to put on tefillin.

After seven months with the combat engineers — just when I thought my tour of duty had ended — President John F. Kennedy extended the service of all troops overseas because of the Cuban Missile Crisis. And this time my unit was sent to the 38th parallel, which demarcates the border between North Korea and South Korea — the most dangerous place you could be in that part of the world.

Once we arrived there, we were ordered to dig in, which meant living in a foxhole. The conditions were terrible. It was winter, very cold, with non-stop pouring rain mixed with hail. Our foxhole turned into a mudhole. Meanwhile, heavy artillery kept coming at us from North Korea.

We all thought this was the end, and that we had to prepare to meet our Maker. At that moment, the last thing I was thinking of was tefillin — I was covered with mud, how could I possibly put them on?

But one of the soldiers somehow associated these tefillin with G-d’s protection. He started yelling at me, “We need G-d! Put on those funny boxes and pray!” I objected because of the conditions, but he just went crazy. He shouted, “Either you pray or I will shoot you!” I saw that he was out of his mind with fear and, to calm him down, I agreed to try.

As I took them out, the tefillin fell down into the mud. They were now soaked with water and caked with mud. But what could I do? I put them on like that and, looking up to the heavens, said the Shema — “Hear O Israel, the L-rd is our G-d, the L-rd is One.”

And all of a sudden, the bombing stopped. I had no idea what happened — I felt I was in a twilight zone. As it turned out, the crisis was over. Before long, I was allowed to return home, and I went on with my life.
In 1967, just before the Six Day War, I thought about volunteering for the IDF, but the Rebbe said that I didn’t have to go that far: “Just put on your tefillin and tell all your friends to do the same.” At that time, the Rebbe started his tefillin campaign to get the message out that putting on tefillin brings down Divine protection. It is also the one thing more than any other that allows a person to get close to G-d.

As someone who has found himself at the epicenter of the greatest nuclear crisis the United States has ever known, I can attest to just how true this is. There is no doubt in my mind that the Rebbe’s tefillin saved my life many times, and because of the Divine protection they afforded me, I am here to tell the story and to encourage every Jew to put on tefillin, even if it’s for the first and only time.

Before retiring, Mr. Shelly Baer owned and operated the Golden Hands Construction company in North Hollywood, California. He was interviewed in January 2019.