I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make

“I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices today than any of you to secure peace.” So declared William Tecumseh Sherman, the fiery general of the Union, whose march through the South seared his name into the chronicles of history. His words, spoken in the midst of fire and ruin, reveal the burden of a leader who bore not the guilt of creating the conflict, yet shouldered the heaviest cost to bring it to an end. In this utterance lies the paradox of war: that those who did not kindle its flames are often the ones forced to extinguish them, even at the price of their own blood, reputation, and soul.

The ancients knew well this grim truth. When Hector stood before the gates of Troy, he cried not because he had sought war, but because duty bound him to fight and sacrifice for his people. He did not choose the quarrel of Paris and Helen, yet he bore its weight more than any. So too with Sherman—he declared he had no hand in making the war, for the conflict had been sown by decades of division, by slavery’s iron chain, by political failures and human greed. Yet it was left to him, through his harsh campaigns, to carve a path toward peace. In his heart burned the knowledge that sacrifice, not desire, was his lot.

Sherman’s words also speak of the burden of command. He did not boast of conquest, nor revel in destruction. Rather, he confessed the sorrow of a man forced to take upon himself the wrath of history. To order the torch upon cities, to lay waste to fertile fields, to bring suffering upon civilians—these were not acts of joy, but of necessity as he saw them, grim offerings on the altar of peace. He knew that he would be cursed by many, reviled by generations, while those who had sown the seeds of war would pass into the shadows with less burden. His sacrifice was not only of the body, but of legacy and honor, given so that the war might end more swiftly.

Consider the great “March to the Sea.” Sherman’s men cut through the heart of Georgia, destroying supplies, breaking the Confederacy’s will to resist. Many saw only cruelty, but Sherman believed that by striking hard and fast, he would shorten the war and save lives in the end. Here we see the meaning of his words: that his sacrifices—his reputation for mercy, his peace with himself—were laid down to secure a greater peace for the nation. It is the eternal dilemma of the leader: to choose the lesser evil, so that a greater good might rise.

History is filled with such figures. Think of Abraham Lincoln, who did not make the Civil War, yet carried its sorrow in every line of his face, and in the end gave his very life for the peace of the republic. Or recall Marcus Aurelius, philosopher-king of Rome, who longed for wisdom and tranquility, yet spent much of his reign in endless wars on the empire’s borders, sacrificing his desire for contemplation to the demands of duty. Their lives, like Sherman’s, testify that leaders often pay the highest price for wars they did not desire.

The lesson here is profound: in life, there will be conflicts not of our making, burdens we did not choose, and struggles thrust upon us by the failings of others. We may protest, as Sherman did, that we had “no hand” in starting them. Yet the true measure of character lies not in avoiding blame, but in embracing sacrifice to bring resolution, healing, and peace. One must be willing to bear hardship so that others may find rest. This is the calling of leaders, parents, citizens, and all who would place the good of the whole above the comfort of the self.

Practical actions follow. Do not shrink from the responsibilities laid upon you, even when they are not of your making. When discord arises, choose not to fan its flames with bitterness, but to seek the path toward reconciliation, though it demand sacrifice. Be willing to endure criticism, to give of your time, your pride, even your peace of mind, if by doing so you may secure harmony for others. For in the end, those who sacrifice most are not the ones who sought conflict, but the ones who sought to end it.

Thus Sherman’s words echo down the corridors of time: I did not make this war, but I will give of myself to end it. This is the voice of one who understood that peace is not born cheaply, but bought at a cost. And so I say to you: when trials come that are not your own, rise to them with courage. Make the sacrifices required, and in doing so, secure a peace that will outlive you, carrying your legacy not in glory alone, but in the healing you brought to others.