Pat Conroy on The Citadel

“Here is what The Boo loved more than The Citadel - nothing, nothing on this Earth. The sun rose on Lesesne Gate and it set on the marshes of the Ashley River and its main job was to keep the parade grounds green. He once told me that a cadet was nothing but a bum, like you, Conroy. But a Corps of Cadets was the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“'''When I was writing 'The Lords of Discipline,' I went to The Boo for help. 'What makes The Citadel different from all other schools? What makes it different, special and unique? Why do I think it is the best college in the world when I hated it when I was here, Boo? Help me with this.' The Boo held up his hand and said, 'It's the ring, Bubba. Always remember that. The ring, the ring, the ring.' I thought about it for a moment then wrote the words, 'I wear the ring.' 'How about this for a first line?' 'Perfect, Bubba, just perfect.''''”

“The Citadel cherishes the belief that the more hardship endured by the young man, the higher the quality of the person who graduates from the system. The Citadel devised a formula years ago to improve the quality of men who walked through her gates. The formula begins with the plebe system. One thing is certain. The plebe system is calculated to be, and generally succeeds in being, a nine month journey through hell. The freshman is beaten, harassed, ridiculed, and humiliated by the upperclassmen who concur and believe in the traditions of the school. Under the pressure of this system, the freshman, in theory, becomes hardened to the savage hardships of the world. Life is tough, the system says, and we are going to make life so tough for you this year that when your marriage dissolves, your child dies unexpectedly, or your platoon is decimated in a surprise attack, you can never say The Citadel didn't prepare you for the worst in life.”

“When the boys of Alpha reached his house, and the A Company commander gave the command of "Eyes right," the guidon snapped in the cool autumn air. The Boo, in uniform, returned the salute with perfect military bearing and held it until A Company had passed. Then he saluted Bravo and Charlie, on down to Romeo and Tango and the Band. The man who had not been out of his home for ninety days, and the man who had not returned to work for a single day, held his salute as seventeen companies passed in view for a man none of them knew. Here is the significance of that thrilling, rogue parade, which in the highly structured world of The Citadel was a revolutionary act. The Corps of Cadets broke ranks and all the rules of order that applied to the Friday parade to pay homage to the man who was in charge of cadet luggage. The Corps has never broken ranks to honor General Summerall or Mark Clark or Prince Charles or Ronald Reagan or any member of the Board of Visitors or the generals of any army of the world. The Corps did it once and only once, and they did it for the love of The Boo, a man they knew only by the power of his legend, by the greatness of his story. And nothing moves the Corps like the power of love.”

“At parade the following Friday, the Board of Visitors and General Duckett stood and saluted as the Corps passed in review before them, as they had done on a thousand Fridays before. But this time, parade was destined to be unlike any Citadel parade before or since in the many-storied and many-splendored history of our college. This parade belongs to the ages. When the A Company commander marched his troops off the field, his company was nearing the street in front of Third Battalion where he would issue the traditional order of "Company right, march." In the first time since The Citadel moved to its new home by the Ashley River, the A Company commander ordered his three platoons to march to the left. He was followed by the commander of Bravo Company, of Charlie, of Delta, of Echo, and then by every company company in the Corps. On the street between the Third and Fourth Battalions, Alpha Company marched right toward the mess hall and the infirmary, with the entire Corps of Cadets behind them. At the infirmary, the Corps turned left again and only two people on the campus knew what the Corps of Cadets was up to. The Boo had spent the day shining up. "The cadets won't care if you're shined up or not," Elizabeth Courvousie said to her husband. "I expect the Corps to be sharp for me," The Boo said. "I want to be sharp for them."”

“In 1973, The Boo had a heart attack that almost killed him. I drove down from Atlanta to visit him at the naval hospital, and he did not look that day like a man who would survive to see the dedication of the Courvoisie Room in September of 2001. When I left to return to Atlanta the next day, Elizabeth Courvoisie wept at my departure and told me she did not ever think I would see her husband again. Two weeks later, he returned to his quarters in The Citadel campus, bedridden and despondent. For a month, he did not leave his house. Only a few cadets came to visit him because The Boo had become invisible to the Corps of Cadets, or so The Citadel thought. So The Boo thought. Nothing on earth thinks or moves or acts or responds like The Citadel Corps of Cadets. The Corps of Cadets is a sovereign nation unto itself, a country that fashions its own rules, a strange entity that makes up its own mind in its own good time. The Citadel thought the Corps of Cadets had forgotten the legend of The Boo. But it was the Corps who had made that legend and the Corps who would keep it alive. Word spread that The Boo was critically ill. A rumor had it that he was dying. Along the galleries, cadets gathered to talk, and the rumors began to fly, and nowhere does rumor travel faster than the Corps. Because they are cadets, there is always mischief and always daring, always a sense of humor that is deeper than anything else. A plan was hatched in secret.”