One must describe more than the flesh-tearing qualities of minie balls, the sickening splinters of jaws being smashed by rifle butts, the bitter irony of facing “friendly fire,” or the soul-searing screams of soldiers facing (often unnecessary) amputations in order to paint the full mural of horrors for the so-called American Civil War (aka War Between the States or War of Northern Aggression). More than in any other historical novel I’ve read, Until the End manages to touch on the loss of hope, the destruction of families, the atrocities committed by men like Mosby’s Raiders upon their own people, and the psychological pain caused by “judgments” of civilians upon women who tried to help (being labeled as “camp followers”) and men who saved entire commands by ignoring the suicidal commands of inexperienced officers. This sequel to Look Away continues to use the “brother-against-brother” trope of its predecessor, but it continues to be a very rich vein of human feelings, aggregated and compounded into an emotional “Mother Lode.”
The name of the book, Until the End comes from a particularly poignant line early in the book. A weary and frightened soldier asks a veteran how much longer “they” can expect the unit to continue facing such horrors of war. The veteran answers, “Until the end, my friend, until the end.” (pp. 109-110). I particularly liked General Gordon’s speech to convince Lee not to ride into the fore of a hopeless battle. “’These men,’ Gordon continued when Lee made no move to leave his self-appointed post, ‘are Virginians and Georgians. They have never failed. They never will. Will you boys?’ he asked as he turned his stern gaze down upon the soldiers who now pressed them.” (p. 167) This was a battle at Spotsylvania Courthouse and those Virginians (Yes, Coyle was depicting a real incident on this page) went on to lose over 130 of the roughly 175 men in one unit alone. That’s the stuff of which legend is made and it spices the fictional stories in the book which are even more compelling, though less larger than life.
Speaking of those very human insights, there is an observation early in the novel when (one of the two brothers posed against the other, brother against brother) Kevin Bannon’s fiancée, Harriet, realizes that Kevin may be taking his leadership role too seriously. Yet, Kevin insisted that his ability to instill action and obedience was tied to the men’s fear of what he could do to them. “I’ve seen that look before, my dear. I saw the workers in my father’s terra-cotta works back in Perth Amboy look at my father in the same manner as he went by. And even though I was his son, and they knew it, they’d talk about him as soon as he’d go by. Just like a company commander, he had power over them and that, my dear, seems to be important, very important.” (p. 34) But Harriet decides that it’s her duty “…to save Kevin from falling victim to the all-consuming attraction of power and authority that had so twisted her own father and his.” (p. 34) Of course, I wouldn’t be unveiling spoilers to suggest that there is some dramatic foreshadowing in such a determination.
Sadly, some of the lines are poignant in a different way. The next quotation represents one of the protagonists philosophizing before a battle and would certainly make one of the saddest possible epitaphs a person could give himself: “I’ve done everything that was expected of me, and nothing that was right. Every time I came face-to-face with a real decision, a real choice, I buckled.” (p. 316) At another point, I read as a beloved officer fell to the ground and one of his own men thought, “Wasn’t it fitting, after all, he reasoned, that the great should share the same fate as those they command?” (p. 329)
Frankly, I was glad that I was eating dinner with a very spicy hot sauce when I finished this book. That way, my tearing eyes and running nose could be covered by the idea that the food was affecting me. The truth is that the conclusion of this book was emotional to me. One expects either a major reconciliation between the brothers or a death.
The book ends in a plausible, realistic way that seems like a beautiful metaphor for the country—the survivors find a way to come together while mourning losses together. As highly as I rate this novel, I’m glad it isn’t a long series in the tradition of Sharpe, Audrey, Bolitho, and the like. Coyle’s Look Away and Until the End are emotionally draining books, more emotionally involving than any other historical novels I’ve read. As a result, I was war-weary by the end because I was empathizing with the protagonists.