The War He Promised to End
The newly elected President of the United States, Daniel Hartman, once a small-town senator from Iowa, had risen to power with a singular promise: “No more wars for profit. Peace, not provocation. Prosperity through progress.”
He had won hearts—especially of the working class, the war widows, and the veterans tired of fighting someone else’s battles. Even in the debates, he had said, “If a war ever happens on my watch, let it be the last one. Let no father bury his son again.”
But months into office, a spark ignited in the Middle East. Israel launched a sudden offensive on Iran. Diplomats panicked. News outlets roared. In the grand halls of Washington, meetings were held behind closed doors.
Corporate donors—leaders of weapons industries and energy conglomerates—called his top advisors. Generals submitted their assessments. Wall Street economists whispered: “War boosts GDP.” His own party, worried about re-election funds, urged swift “strategic intervention.”
One night, alone in the Lincoln Guest House, Daniel sat in silence. In his hand was a letter from his 19-year-old son, Nate, a student activist. It read:
“Dad, if you let this war happen, what’s stopping them from drafting me? If you wouldn’t send me to die for oil and ego, how can you send anyone else’s child?”
Daniel stared at the ceiling. The old portrait of Lincoln hung above, eyes solemn and heavy with history.
He had campaigned to end cycles of bloodshed. Yet now, the gears of power, commerce, and global dominance were grinding forward. Peace, it seemed, had no lobby.
Outside, a protest gathered. Candles flickered. Mothers held photos. Veterans stood in silence. A banner read: “Don’t let more sons die for old men's pride.”
Daniel whispered to himself, “Is this how it happens? One choice, and a thousand graves?”
And at that moment, he understood the full weight of the quote:
Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die. - Herbert Hoover
Moral:
When the future is decided in boardrooms and war rooms, the youth become pawns in games they never chose to play.
