As I was watching and listened to President Trump give his speech at Arlington Cemetery today it brought back memories which I had buried somewhere in my memory archives, and pushed them to the front of my brain. I had to ask myself, why do we have wars? Everyone seems to have their own opinion based on their background. To me the reasons for most of the worlds’ wars fall into conflicts to do with territory, religion, and fear.

Looking even closer, most conflicts have to do with fear. We all have fear of being forced to lose any of these, our territory, our religion, or our freedom. We don’t want to lose anything we have, and fear not being able to get anything we think we need.

The country leaders treat war like a game. They decide what moves we must make to mitigate these fears. The militaries are pieces that move where the leaders tell them, like pieces on a chess board. It’s a giant board game to the ones orchestrating it. The difference is people suffer and die playing it. So why do they volunteer?

Why do we volunteer to possibly lay down our lives so the leaders can play the game of war? The answer is simple, fear. The soldier is driven by fear, not for themselves, but for the ones they love more than themselves. The families and friends that are at home. Who else is so important to them that they would put themselves in harm’s way?

They don’t hate or fear the enemy in front of them, they fight because they love and fear for the ones behind them. When the fears are alleviated, enemies become friends. We Americans are friends now with the Japanese and the Germans, who were once our greatest enemies. We don’t fear each other anymore.

When I take my walks late at night in the solitude of the darkness, things that I normally am able to suppress, seem to float back into my pondering, and I realize I don’t cry for the dead; I do, however, cry for the ones that were not part of the game and bore the suffering caused by it.

The wives that never had a hug from their husbands again, the children that never knew the love of a father, the parents that grew old and died without their son/daughter there to take care of them and say goodbye to, and the ones that came home and were severely handicapped the rest of their lives. These are the ones that truly suffer from wars. I still cry for them.