But one lesson history offers—etched in Normandy headstones and Pacific atolls—is this: “war is always unpredictable.” Once lit, the fuse does not burn in a straight line. Even if this conflict achieves its objective and prevents a nuclear-armed Iran, the world will not be free from violence.
There may still be suicide bombers in crowded markets, drones slipping through desert skies, or missiles striking remote outposts. But the devastation—while no less tragic in human cost—may fall short of the cataclysmic horror unleashed by nuclear arms.
A grim calculus, perhaps, but a real one. And yet, let’s be honest—“war is a failure.” A failure of diplomacy, of imagination, of our ability to see humanity in one another. Too often, we default to force when we run out of words or patience. It’s not just a geopolitical misstep—it’s a wound to our collective spirit. Our grandfathers knew this intimately.
Many never came home, their youth spent defending ideals that still echo faintly today: freedom, responsibility, peace through strength. The ones who returned rarely spoke of glory. They spoke of friends lost, of quiet moments stolen during chaos, and of the haunting silence that follows gunfire. “Freedom has never been free.” It’s been etched into granite memorials and whispered at kitchen tables. And now, a new generation stands where the last once did, shoulders squared, prayers following behind them like shadows.
May God bless our servicemen and women in this moment of peril. May He bless America with restraint, wisdom, and endurance. And may we all hope—and work—for a world where “diplomacy is not drowned out by the drums of war.”