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8 The CiTadel 2006

Pat Conroy’s eulogy to Lt. Col. Thomas Nugent Courvoisie

Author and Citadel alumnus Pat Conroy delivered this eulogy at Lt. Col. Thomas Nugent Courvoisie’s funeral May 3, 2006, in Summerall Chapel.

Today we gather together, in great joy and sorrow, to bid farewell to one of the most famous Citadel graduates who ever lived, Col. Thomas Nugent Courvoisie, whose last name was a French cognac, but who claimed his whole life he was pure Irish. Because Citadel cadets cannot pronounce any French products, they nicknamed him The Boo. Because The Boo could not remember any cadet’s name, he referred to us as bubba, lambs and bums. It was a wonderful, distinguishing moment in a cadet’s life to be called a bum by The Boo. It was a moment of arrival, a rite of passage, and the stamping of a visa attesting to the fact you were an official member of that strange, bright country we call 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. In World War II, he led an artillery unit during the Battle of the Bulge and he once told me, “The Germans hated to see me and my boys catch ’em in the open.”

It is my own personal belief that The Boo’s own voice was more frightening to the Germans than the artillery fire he was directing toward them.

The voice. There has never been a louder, gruffer, more stentorian or commanding voice ever to stir the airwaves of this campus. I speak now of The Boo in his prime, striding this campus like a colossus, all-powerful and omnipresent with his flashing, hawk-like glance that took in everything, his purposeful and menacing stalk and that intimidating voice that seemed five times as loud as God’s.

I once saw him shout out the words, “Halt, Bubba,” on the steps of the Summerall Chapel. Coming out of the library, I halted on the third step and prayed he wasn’t yelling at me. But the amazing thing was that the entire campus had halted. Every cadet stood frozen in place like wildebeests on the Serengeti plains after a lion’s roar. Cadets stood at perfect attention, in perfect stillness, some walking into Mark Clark Hall, toward First Battalion, toward the field house, into Bond Hall and all the way to the tool shed. The Boo then charged across the parade ground, stopped a kid entering into Second Battalion and burned him for his personal appearance. The cadet’s shoeshine particularly offended The Boo, although as I approached the chapel I could not even tell the kid had feet. I heard every word of the cadet’s bawling out and I was 100 yards away.

You have never been blessed out or bawled out or chewed out unless you got it from The Boo in his prime. Did I say he was five times louder than God? I’m sorry if that sounds sacrilegious and it certainly is not true. The Boo was at least ten times louder than God, and I was scared of him my entire cadet career.

But he prowled this campus like a dark angel of discipline, and this guy was everywhere. He would be there before reveille in any of the four barracks catching seniors late to formation. He was all over the mess hall, wandered the stands during football games, roamed the barracks during parades. During evening study period, he patrolled the barracks breaking up card games, confiscating televisions and writing up cadets out of uniform.

Four times, he recommended my expulsion from The Citadel. Once I found my name on the DL list for “Insulting Assistant Commandant’s Wife.”

My tac officer recommended I be kicked out of school. I ran to The Boo’s office and demanded an explanation.

“You stopped to talk to my wife about books on the parade ground.”

“She stopped me, Colonel,” I said.

“I noticed your brass was smudged, your shoes unshined and your shirt tuck a disgrace. I considered it an insult to my wife.”

“I am a senior private, Colonel. That’s how I’m supposed to look,” I said.

The Boo roared with laughter.

Earlier, The Boo had pulled me for “bringing disgrace, shame and dishonor to The Citadel.”

The same tac wanted me expelled from The Citadel. When I confronted The Boo again, he explained that I had played such a lousy basketball game against Furman that he thought I had brought disgrace and shame to The Citadel. Then again, the laughter.

The reason The Boo became the most beloved and honored figure on The Citadel campus and why his legend has continued is because of his sense of honor, his sense of justice and his sense of