You ask me what war is... You ask me why it happens...
You could easily look it up in the dictionary and see what war means, but if you really want to know what it is, you'll have to go through it to really understand. What you read in the dictionary is just a bunch of empty letters pinned up together to make empty words.
Oh sure. You study your "Great Wars" in school. By all means, you could go and read about it then come back to report your findings, but I don't think you would really understand what it truly is like that. If you want to know what war really is, then you're gonna have to pick up that gun and go in, battling out for yourself.
War is just another polished up word for mass killing. War is just a excuse to not talk to one another about the shit that's going on in your world, on your planet. They can polish it up and make it as honorable as they want, but in the end, the only result is deep hatred blooming up to something worse and a slash in your population.
War is running through an empty field with heavy gun fire over head. War is watching your buddies around you be shot down and wounded, unable to help them. It's like you know you're going to die when you step foot on that battle field. War is holding your best friend tight in your arms as his life slips away from his crystal blue eyes. It's watching that cocky, shit-eating grin start to wither, no matter how hard he wants to hold it up. It's having his warm blood gush between your fingers as you try to stop the bleeding, as his feathers start to fall out and get stuck to your hand because it's coated in his blood. War is having the one thing that meant something to you ripped out of your chest and shattered to pieces and for what? Bragging rights that you could order people to out kill the other team?
You can polish a rifle until it sparkles and shines like the finest jewel, but it's still a rifle, meant to hurt and kill people. Meant to rip through flesh and bone, meant to put them down...
You ask me what war is... Why it happens...
War is not the shining image of a proud soldier with ribbons and metals lining his jacket. War is having nightmares every night that make you sit up and scream out your lungs. It racks your body with tremors, making your pores coat your body, soak your clothes, double your bed with sweat. It makes your lose touch with reality, taking you back to when you watched everyone you loved be murdered and stolen from your right before your eyes in the most awful ways you could think of. It's not being able to wake up, even when your mentor is screaming at you and shaking you like an expensive martini. It's wanting to end your own life because you can't take it anymore.
Then the men that send you to war don't do anything. They just sit back in their fancy and expensive offices, in their plush desk chairs. They say they're fighting with you, being there in spirit to cheer you on, but we all know that's a bunch of bull shit. What gives them the right to sit back and let these innocent people suffer on their behalf? Why do we get the nightmares, the suffering, the death of everything that ever meant something, while they sit back in their pressed suits, sitting their expensive coffee that can only be made from the finest beans from another planet?
No... You asked me what war was. You wanted to know why it happened. You asked me the questions, you wanted to know the answers. Well, now you have something to think about. You'll never understand what we go through when we're sent out to fight someone else's battle because they're too much of a coward to go and calm things down by themselves. You'll never understand what it's like to watch your everything die in your arms, or what it's like to want to claw away your own skin because you can still feel the blood of the innocent eating away at your flesh, no matter how many times you scrubbed at your arms.
You want to know what war is? Go enlist. Then come back and talk to me like you have something semi-intelligent to say.