I covered the Vietnam War. I remember the lies that were told

Gather close, O children, and listen to the words of Walter Cronkite, a man who lived through the storms of history and saw with his own eyes the bitter consequences of deceit. He spoke thus: "I covered the Vietnam War. I remember the lies that were told, the lives that were lost - and the shock when, twenty years after the war ended, former Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara admitted he knew it was a mistake all along." These words, spoken with the weight of experience, carry with them a profound truth about the nature of war, about the lies that sustain it, and the cost it exacts upon the human soul.

The Vietnam War, a conflict that tore through the hearts of many nations, is a chapter of history marked not only by the horrors of battle, but by the deception that surrounded it. For years, the American public was told that the war was justified, that the fight was necessary to prevent the spread of communism, to protect the freedom of nations far away. Yet, as Cronkite reminds us, these were lies—lies that justified the loss of lives and the destruction of innocence. Young men and women were sent to fight, to die, under the belief that their cause was righteous, that their sacrifice was for the greater good. But the truth was hidden behind a veil of false promises and misguided ambitions, and it took decades for the full extent of the deception to come to light.

The words of Robert S. McNamara, the former Defense Secretary, came as a shock to many. After years of overseeing the war, after years of being part of the machinery that sent so many to their deaths, he admitted that it had all been a mistake. McNamara's confession, coming so long after the fact, served as a painful reminder of the cost of ignorance and pride. The wars we fight, whether they be external or internal, are often rooted not in the truth, but in the assumptions and misunderstandings of those in power. It is a bitter truth, O children, that history is often shaped not by the heroes who stand for what is right, but by those who use their power to deceive and manipulate the masses.

In the grand sweep of history, we see this pattern again and again. The ancient Greeks were no strangers to the ravages of war. The Trojan War, immortalized in the Iliad, was fought over pride, over the abduction of Helen, a beautiful woman, whose loss became a justification for years of bloodshed. But the truth, as we know now, was far more complex, and the gods who guided the warriors were often as deceitful as the men who fought under their banners. The ancient wars were filled with lies, filled with the manipulation of truths to justify the taking of life. And yet, in the end, the cost of these wars was always the same: death, destruction, and the shattering of countless lives.

And so, too, did the Vietnam War carry the same toll. Cronkite, the great journalist, understood this more than most. He watched as young men returned from the battlefield, broken not just in body, but in spirit. They carried with them not just the wounds of war, but the deep, haunting knowledge that they had been deceived. The families who lost their sons and daughters, the communities torn apart by grief—they, too, carried the weight of these lies. And for what? For a conflict that, in the end, was shown to be not just misguided, but tragically unnecessary. The cost of truth was high, and it came far too late for those whose lives had already been claimed by the war.

Now, O children, what is the lesson we must learn from this? The true lesson is one of honesty and accountability. It is a lesson that we must take to heart, for we live in a world where deception still abounds, where the voices of power often seek to obscure the truth for their own benefit. Whether in politics, in business, or in our personal lives, we are constantly faced with the temptation to hide the truth, to mislead those around us, to justify our actions with false promises and empty words. The cost of this deception is always high, for it erodes trust, it destroys relationships, and it leads us down paths that ultimately end in regret.

We must remember that the cost of honesty is often high, too. To speak the truth may bring pain, may bring anger, or even retribution. But it is only through truth that we can heal, that we can move forward. As Cronkite and McNamara show us, the truth, though it may come late, is the balm that can begin to soothe the wounds of the past. In our own lives, we must choose to seek truth—in our actions, in our words, and in our hearts. We must be willing to look at ourselves and our world with open eyes, to confront the lies that are told, and to live with the understanding that only in truth can we find true peace.

So, children, let us carry this lesson forward: let us choose the path of truth and integrity, even when the lies of the world seem easier, even when the deceptions of power are more convenient. For it is in truth that we find freedom, in truth that we find redemption, and in truth that we find the strength to rise above the mistakes of the past. The wars that are fought not just with weapons, but with words, will only cease when we choose to fight for honesty, for clarity, and for the well-being of all. Let us make this our mission: to speak the truth, to seek the truth, and to live with the courage to face it, no matter the cost.