Furor Over Gays in Military Taken in Stride at Ft. Knox : Armed forces: Many are willing to deal with the lifting of the ban, despite warnings it may lower morale.

On the distant ranges surrounding this Army post, repeated rounds of artillery shells fall with a dull thud, and tank fire thunders all day into a clear autumn sky. On base, soldiers rake their front lawns, wash their cars and hustle to the PX to run errands.

But the predictable peacetime routine of life at Ft. Knox seems somewhat unsettled these days. A conflict is edging closer to this military installation in the rolling hills of Kentucky, 30 miles south of Louisville, creating an undercurrent of anxiety among the 39,000 men and women stationed here.

For the first time in the history of the American military, service members are pondering the prospect of fighting alongside openly gay and lesbian soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines. On this post, where the Army plans its recruitment efforts, conducts basic training and turns new recruits into tank warriors, that prospect is generating reactions ranging from mild horror to hopeful anticipation. For the most part, though, it is being greeted with a soldierly sense of resignation, and a determination to make the best of a new set of marching orders.

In Washington, where the political battle over lifting the ban has been joined, top commanders have warned pointedly of the potential for plunging morale, mass resignations and a breakdown in discipline--the kind of turmoil in the ranks not seen since the darkest days of the Vietnam War. President-elect Bill Clinton, heeding those concerns, has vowed not to impose the change until he can find ways to mitigate the negative impact.

But during a reporter’s recent visit to Ft. Knox, few dire predictions were heard. There was, to be sure, the rumble of dissent. There was a palpable fear of the unknown and the uncertain. There were even whispered accounts of past homosexual assaults, nervous speculation about group showers and solemnly intoned religious denunciations.

But there were no brash boasts of insubordination, no assertions that discipline will collapse and virtually no threats to resign over the issue. The possibility of male rapes by gays or brutal gay-bashing attacks by straights--subjects of heated debate among some civilian commentators--were largely dismissed with a shrug by soldiers here.

Instead, many service members appear to share a powerful faith in the military’s ability to weather a new challenge, to mold openly gay men and lesbians to its standards of conduct and even to fall in line more closely with prevailing trends in civilian society.

That’s not to suggest that a majority of military personnel look forward to the change. Of more than two dozen soldiers interviewed at Ft. Knox, roughly one-third were clearly opposed to the policy change; many were vocal in their beliefs that gays, as one soldier put it, would “create a weak link” in small fighting units. Roughly another third said they would do nothing to resist the new rules, but expressed concerns about the effects of lifting the ban on gays. The remaining third said they support the proposed new policy.

Among opponents, and even among some of those who said the armed forces are ready for such a change, the prospect is being greeted with a certain amount of anxiety, and a great deal of curiosity. How would gays actually exercise their new freedom? How would the presence of avowedly gay soldiers affect the internal cohesiveness and camaraderie of military units? Could gay soldiers make the AIDS virus a new, unseen peril on the battlefield?

Among gay soldiers, who were sought out elsewhere in telephone interviews, the primary question seems to be whether it makes sense to acknowledge their homosexuality once it is no longer against the rules to do so.

Among younger soldiers especially, the discussion seems to echo in simple terms the views expressed by Clinton. The President-elect has proposed basing future disciplinary actions and service expulsions on incidents of disruptive or harassing conduct by homosexuals, rather than on their sexual orientation alone.

As long as they leave me alone, a number of young soldiers suggested, why not let them serve?

“It shouldn’t be a problem if (the homosexuals) can cut it” in training, said 27-year-old Sgt. Robert Jeter, an African-American drill sergeant with nine years in the Army and an air of supreme confidence in his ability to bend soldiers to his will.

“Discipline,” he asserted, “will stay high. The Army has a way of dealing with that.”

Jeter said he personally opposes lifting the prohibition on gays and lesbians. Straight soldiers will feel threatened, will not want to shower with gays and will be reluctant to come to the aid of a gay comrade for fear that he might carry the AIDS virus.

Despite those concerns, Jeter said he would not dream of quitting the service over the change in policy. “We’re faced with challenges every day, and this is just another challenge we have to deal with,” he said.

2nd Lt. Mark Johnson, 22, who is training to become a tank platoon commander, warned that lifting of the ban would be “a very hard change” and would cause “a lot of bitterness.” At the same time, Johnson looked on the prospective change, as did several younger officers, as an opportunity to exercise his newly minted leadership skills.

“As officers, we can say, ‘Here’s the deal: The Army is composed of many different people of many different viewpoints, and homosexuality is one of them,’ ” said Johnson. “It’s an officer’s duty to adapt and to see that the people we lead adapt. That’s our job.”

That confidence is widely shared among gay men and lesbians serving in the military.

“If the ban gets lifted, I’m going to put on my professional hat a little tighter. I’m going to hold (my subordinates) to the rules: I abide by them and I want to hold them to the same rules,” said Don, a gay sergeant with 12 years in the Marine Corps. Like other gay soldiers interviewed for this report, he requested anonymity.

“Nobody’s going to call me faggot,” he said. “They’re gonna call me ‘sergeant,’ and they’re going to treat me with the respect that goes with that.”

Most officers and enlistees here and at other military installations tend to be young, and many soldiers here suggested that opposition to the idea of gays and lesbians in the services may be coming mainly from older, senior officers.

That generational difference mirrors a similar phenomenon among civilians, 57% of whom told the Gallup Poll last June that they would favor a policy that allows openly gay and lesbian people to serve in the military. Support for this policy was 63% among those 18 to 29 years of age, but dropped to 51% among those 50 to 64 years old.

“Those that are going to be complaining a lot are older people,” said Sgt. Robert Legett, a 29-year-old supply sergeant with four years in the service. “It’s time for them to move over and let other, younger people come up.”

“It’s a generational thing,” added Specialist Steven Cobb, a 22-year-old artilleryman who fought in the Persian Gulf. “For some of these older soldiers, it’s hard to get used to the new Army.”

Many of these young soldiers are black, and several drew a parallel between resistance to lifting the ban on homosexuals and resistance to the integration of blacks into the service beginning in 1948.

That analogy is rejected by the nation’s most senior military officer, Gen. Colin L. Powell, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and an African-American. Powell argues that race is a “benign characteristic” distinct from sexual preference, which he characterizes as a lifestyle choice that is incompatible with military service.

At Ft. Knox, an Army chaplain likened much of the opposition to a grief reaction. Faced with the near-certain prospect of a change in policy, said Capt. Steven Zinser, opponents “are having a period of anger and rejection before acceptance takes hold.”

“People blow a lot of things out of proportion,” said 28-year-old Sgt. Jerry Rider, a medical technician. Rider said his own religious convictions lead him to believe that homosexuality is wrong. Even so, he supports lifting the ban on gay soldiers. “There are homosexuals in the Army already,” he said. “It’s just going to make it public, and they won’t have to lie anymore.”

For gay men and lesbians already in the military, lifting that burden would bring a profound sense of psychological relief.

“The biggest change,” said Justin, a gay Marine with 10 years in the service, “would be that we don’t have to look over our shoulders anymore.” But many, citing a fear of harassment by colleagues and a highly developed desire for privacy, said the change in policy would bring little change in their behavior.

“A lot of us are weighing the value of coming out,” said John, a gay Marine now based at Camp Lejeune in his fifth year in the Corps. “If I come out to my colleagues, they would probably reassess their view of me. There would be questions, snickering and snide remarks, though it would blow over.

“But the main thing is the military mission,” he continued. “As an active-duty person, I have a mission to do, and if I flaunt my homosexuality, it might distract people. Others would look at me, and not the mission that I have to accomplish. Then the mission is affected, and that’s where the problem starts.”

Such military-first attitudes on the part of gay and lesbian service members may prove critical to defusing the most strident opposition to the policy change, many military leaders have said. Even gay activists acknowledge that future generations of homosexuals may explore the limits of the military’s tolerance for overt homosexual behavior. But the initial response will be shaped by the discreetly closeted gays in today’s military.

While that groundbreaking role will place additional burdens on gay soldiers who choose to acknowledge their homosexuality after the change, many observers who already are familiar with them said it is a challenge they are likely to accept.

“The behavior of the homosexuals will pretty well determine how they’re accepted,” said Capt. Zinser, a 40-year-old chaplain for a basic training battalion at Ft. Knox. “If there’s an attempt to persuade, to recruit, to hit on people, the reaction will be very negative.

“But these folks have learned the customs, the mores, the traditions of the military already. They know when to keep it to themselves,” he said.