The long march

In the sweltering heat of a Carolina summer, a routine lunch line turns into a nightmare when a misfired mortar explodes, scattering bodies and blood across the pine‑filled fields. Lieutenant Culver, a reserve officer who thought he had left combat behind, watches the carnage unfold and confronts a visceral revulsion that shakes his long‑simmering sense of duty. The opening scene thrusts listeners into a stark, unflinching portrait of war’s sudden, indiscriminate brutality, forcing the protagonist to reckon with the gap between his seasoned exterior and the raw fear bubbling inside.

Against this backdrop, the novel follows Culver’s uneasy return to service after a quiet civilian life, exploring how a simple envelope of orders can ignite a cascade of doubts and memories. As he navigates the uneasy peace of the early 1950s, the story delves into the psychological weight of being called back to a conflict that feels both familiar and alien, offering a thoughtful meditation on aging, responsibility, and the lingering shadows of past battles.