LET THE HELL WEEK BEGIN

By ELIZABETH GLEICK

By the time they arrive in Charleston, South Carolina, this week, many of the 600 or so freshmen--otherwise known as knobs--entering the Citadel hope to be ready for the rigors of Hell Week and beyond. Local alumni representatives will have taught them what is the best kind of sandpaper to keep their uniform brass tarnish free, the most effective bug repellent (knobs are not permitted to scratch in public), the most reliable alarm clocks and the most durable T shirts. They will also be mentally prepared for the ritual hazing, designed to remind cadets that the military has no room for free spirits. As Henry Woods, class of '67, told an incoming group recently, "Remember, once you enter the Citadel you are the same. You should not stand out in any way."

That may be difficult for the four women who will be joining the male cadets this year--an event that was forced upon the 154-year-old military college by a June Supreme Court ruling that declared the all-male admission policy at the state-supported Virginia Military Institute unconstitutional. The battle against coeducation--which began in earnest in 1993 when the state-supported Citadel mistakenly accepted Shannon Faulkner, thinking she was male--was waged so fiercely, and with such ill will, that when an out-of-sorts and out-of-shape Faulkner withdrew a year ago after less than a week, the victorious whooping of the other cadets was shown on national television. And even last week lawyers for both sides were still wrangling over such details as what to do about a pregnant cadet (kick her out when she can no longer handle the military exercises; then, if appropriate, readmit her after the child is born); whether to shave the women's heads like the male knobs (a short cut will be permissible); and whether freshmen may date upperclassmen (they may not).

Already, the chances at success for these four women look better than those of their predecessor. Three of them have Citadel family ties, and all four hope to avoid the extraordinary glare of the spotlight that contributed to Faulkner's demise. As Robert Black, who served as a lawyer for Faulkner, puts it, "Shannon always, always wanted to please the Citadel. But in order to get into the school, she had to go to court. It was a cruel situation." Seventeen-year-old Kim Messer's father is an Army veteran, and her elder brother attended the Citadel before leaving for medical reasons. Her passion for things military is already intense: in high school in Clover, South Carolina, she became the group commander for the Air Force Junior ROTC, helped organize her high school's first military ball and spent the summer in rigorous ROTC training at Fort Knox. "She's got grit," says Harvey Messer, who adds that he is nevertheless worried about the reception she will receive this week. "She's still our baby. We want her to be O.K." Nancy Mace, 18, is the daughter of retired Army Brigadier General J. Emory Mace, Citadel class of '63, who remains the school's most decorated alumnus for his service in Vietnam. Until recently, Mace confesses, he was among those who balked at integrating the school. Now, though, he says, "It's a new day, there's a new law of the land, and we live with realities."

Many at the Citadel--which over the years has graduated countless members of South Carolina's ruling class--are choosing, like Mace, to be gracious in defeat. Most are simply relieved the battle is over. As Bryant Butler, the 23-year-old Regimental Commander of the Corps of Cadets, says, "Not one male incoming freshman I've talked to said he didn't want to attend because women would be here. As a matter of fact, some said they felt more comfortable now that the decision was made." And when alumni learned of a woman who had been accepted to the school but could not afford the $16,000 it would cost for the first year, they jumped in. The woman, like the fourth new female cadet, has not released her name to the press. But this foreign-born student living in northern Virginia came so highly recommended that Langhorne Anthony Motley, class of '60, who had contributed to the school's legal defense fund during what has come to be known as the Faulkner Debacle, shot off E-mail to some 120 members of the Washington area alumni club. When the woman enters school this week, a check in excess of $6,000 will have been deposited in her name, and she will be living in the same barracks as her fellow females.

Their arrival brings closure to a difficult chapter in the life of Shannon Faulkner, who, after holding a number of jobs in the last year, plans to return to school. This fall she will enter Furman University, in Greenville, South Carolina, as a junior English major. And while she still gets stares in public, she also gets accolades. Recently, while she was attending a baseball game near her hometown of Powdersville, South Carolina, some little girls approached her and asked, "Are you Shannon?" When she nodded yes, they squealed, "We want to be like you!" Thanks to Faulkner's Pyrrhic victory, someday they can do even better.

--Reported by Lisa H. Towle/Raleigh

With reporting by Lisa H. Towle/Raleigh