SCANDAL IN THE MILITARY

By ELIZABETH GLEICK

For some people, one of the bewildering aspects of the modern condition is that all sorts of things no longer mean what they once did. A smile is not always just a smile; a pat on the back may be mistaken for more than encouragement. And at the center of the sexual harassment scandal sweeping Maryland's Aberdeen Proving Ground, members of the 143rd Ordnance Battalion--whose motto is "Professionals in Gear"--may want to consider changing their mascot from the acronymic PIG to a creature a bit less loaded with symbolism.

The deeper meaning was not lost on the Army, though, when it announced it was filing rape, assault and sexual harassment charges against three male officers responsible for training new recruits at Aberdeen, and investigating at least 17 others. The most far-reaching scandal to hit the armed forces since the Navy's 1991 Tailhook incident threatens to undermine the thing that many in the military hold sacred: the chain of command. It has also teased out an alarming number of similar allegations at other bases around the country. But hoping to avoid a repeat of Tailhook--in which no one was ever convicted after scores of women were assaulted by Navy aviators--the Army brass is moving quickly in this case to demonstrate "zero tolerance" and assure the public that they will do all they can to root out further wrongdoing throughout the armed forces.

Yet the Army may be unprepared for the extent of the damage it uncovers. A toll-free hotline set up at Aberdeen logged some 3,930 calls by the end of last week. Of this number, about 1 in 10 were crank calls, and some people were calling to report problems dating back to World War II. But other calls were considerably more urgent: 506 possible incidents of abuse, including 101 relating to Aberdeen, have been handed off to the Army Criminal Investigation Command for further study. Captain Paul Goodwin, a former company commander in the 143rd at Aberdeen, who has helped out answering the hotline, is devastated by what he has been hearing. "When there's a voice to go with the story--and when you hear how sincere they are--it just breaks your heart," he says.

Meanwhile, the military, eager to appear vigilant, disclosed a number of similar incidents at other bases. A drill sergeant at the Fort Leonard Wood training ground in Missouri pleaded guilty to charges of having consensual sex with three recruits and of trying to have sex with two other women, while two officers await court-martial and 10 other cases are pending there. An Air Force general revealed that over the past three years, eight male instructors have been disciplined for harassment at the Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. And the San Antonio Express-News reported that at a medic school at Fort Sam Houston, five sergeants were disciplined for fraternization and wild behavior on a February bus trip to Mexico.

It is the allegations at Aberdeen, though, that raise the most troubling questions about the Army's ability to police itself. Nearly all the cases made public so far involve relationships that occurred between trainees and their direct commanders within the same company of the 143rd Battalion--a violation of one of the cardinal rules of the military, which forbids even consensual sex between a superior and subordinate in the same chain of command. Moreover, the relationship between drill sergeants and new recruits is one of the most highly charged in the military. Assuming authority that falls somewhere between in loco parentis and God, a training cadre must mold vulnerable young men and women--many of them barely out of their teens and away from home for the first time--into soldiers. "Drill sergeants are the stewards of a special trust and responsibility," said Major General Robert Shadley, commander of the Ordnance Center and School at Aberdeen. "We must ensure that they do not abuse their power."

Although most of the Aberdeen incidents occurred between July and September 1996, officials on base say they first became aware of the problems there in early September, when Private Jessica Bleckley complained that Staff Sergeant Nathanael Beach of the 143rd Battalion's Charlie Company had sexually assaulted her. Her protest unleashed a volley of other allegations, mostly involving Staff Sergeant Delmar Simpson, a 12-year Army veteran. According to Army documents, he told a trainee, "If anyone finds out about me having sex with you, I'll kill you." In the wake of such threats, the Army decided to jail Simpson two months ago, pending a court-martial. Simpson now faces an array of charges, including nine counts of rape involving three women and several counts of forcible sodomy and assault. One female private alleged she was abused by Captain Derrick Robertson, Simpson's commander in the 143rd's Alpha Company. Robertson, who has been charged with rape and assault, has admitted to a relationship with a recruit, though he denies raping her. And Beach is charged with adultery, threatening a female soldier and fraternization. All three men are married. If court-martialed and convicted, Simpson and Robertson could spend the rest of their life in prison.

The damage they may have done, though, is permanent. Bleckley, in an interview with TIME, describes being terrorized by both Beach and Simpson and humiliated at the hands of the Army. Still, she is proud she came forward. "People don't need to go through what I went through," she says.

The charges became public Nov. 7, after the Army's top leaders decided the best way to handle such a public relations nightmare was to be up front about it--before the seamy details surfaced in the press or congressional-hearing room. The Army now appears to be responding forcefully, giving rape-prevention classes to new trainees and putting the remaining drill sergeants through additional sexual harassment training. But questions remain about why it took so long for the allegations to come to the public's attention. Army officials say they wanted to complete their investigations before publicity jeopardized the case. They also moved cautiously, an officer working on the case told TIME, "because about 80% of the victims are white and 80% of those charged are black." But no evidence of discrimination was found, he said, and so the cases were allowed to proceed. Tracking down all the alleged victims has also proved difficult: Army officials say some went AWOL because of their treatment.

There were also hints of trouble at Aberdeen long before Simpson was locked up. Lieut. Colonel Martin Utzig, commander of the 143rd, formally scolded him in January for jabbing a female recruit (superiors are not allowed to touch subordinates in training) and transferred him from Bravo to Alpha Company. And another drill sergeant with the 143rd was booted from the service earlier in Utzig's tenure for inappropriately touching a female student. This may have led Utzig and others to believe the problems were being properly handled, but it could also have masked a more serious breakdown in the chain of command that allowed some officers to feel their misbehavior would be tolerated. "It is hard to believe that other drill instructors at Aberdeen were completely blind as to what was happening," says Charles Moskos, a military sociologist at Northwestern University. A female officer with a decade of service, who says she has experienced sexual harassment in the Army, agrees. "I was enlisted once, and leaders who sit around in the barracks, popping a few tops, know what's going on," she says. "I'll bet you a million dollars some leaders knew what was going on a long time ago. When you've got multiple assaults, it's obvious some of them are looking the other way."

Indeed, some soldiers at the 143rd Battalion's headquarters, a cluster of brick buildings 12 miles from Aberdeen's main post, confessed they were not shocked by the charges. They described a high school atmosphere on base where gossip about sex rustled among the troops. "There's lots of talk about relationships, but it's whispered, not broadcast widely," says Private Xanett Salgador-Hill, 18, a mechanic from Savannah, Georgia. "It's the same as in the civilian world, but people expect more from the military." Private Bashir Gray, 18, has heard the rumors too. "People were saying some of the drill sergeants were flirting with some of the privates, but I just couldn't believe it," he says.

At Fort Leonard Wood, too, a 63,000-acre base in the Ozarks, there have been reports that fraternization between drill sergeants and recruits was common knowledge. Angelia Shirley, 19, one of the soldiers to testify against Sergeant Loren Taylor, who was found guilty last week of having consensual sex with three women in 1995, told reporters that her "battle buddy" knew she was involved with Taylor, and she is "pretty sure other drill sergeants knew. Drill sergeants talk, just like girls talk. It's part of life."

That may be so, but many soldiers at Aberdeen expressed profound shame at the scandal swirling around them. Phillip Cook, 31, a drill sergeant with the 143rd's Bravo Company, says he saw fear in the eyes of his newest class of trainees, who arrived at Aberdeen on Nov. 9, just after the allegations made headlines around the country. "It took a lot of the power base away from my hat," he says, referring to the distinctive Smokey the Bear hat worn by training sergeants. "It used to be when they saw this hat, they knew that I was a straight-and-narrow type of person, and that I knew exactly what to do. But now there's a question in the privates' minds." Many new trainees do feel betrayed. "The drill sergeant tells you when to eat, when to wake--they feel like parents," says Salgador-Hill. "So when something like this happens, it hurts." The Army is reinforcing a buddy system that requires trainees to travel in pairs. Cook, for one, applauds it. "I don't talk to any soldiers alone," he says. "to protect both them and me."

It will take a lot more than a buddy system to reassure the 196,000 women who make up 13% of the armed forces. A survey released by the Pentagon in July found that although relations were improving, 52% of the nearly 50,000 respondents felt they had been sexually harassed in 1995. The problem, explains one officer who says her career was derailed after she filed assault charges against a superior, is that the people investigating complaints are often the abusers.

Many soldiers interviewed at Aberdeen and Fort Leonard Wood wonder if the attraction between a recruit and a drill sergeant sometimes flows both ways--if, that is, some of the young women are to blame--but Army officials, at least publicly, reject this argument. "Who's the vulnerable party?" asks Major Ralph Palmiero, executive officer of the 2nd Battalion 47th Infantry Division at Fort Leonard Wood. "A new private who is so scared and vulnerable, who doesn't understand the Army? Or a drill sergeant, who definitely knows better?" Now that the military has decided to ask, it is likely that more women soldiers will start to tell.

--Reported by Sharman Stein/Fort Leonard Wood and Mark Thompson/Aberdeen

With reporting by SHARMAN STEIN/FORT LEONARD WOOD AND MARK THOMPSON/ABERDEEN