THE WAR THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED
Little Turtle was a young Comanche who lived happily with his mother, father, and two older brothers on the great prairies. His father was well respected by the tribe, above all for having three sons who would grow to manhood and bring honor to the Comanche name.
Each day was a new adventure for Little Turtle and he welcomed each dawn with great excitement. He never knew just what was planned for him or what the other children of the village would decide to do, but he was always ready to take part in whatever would happen.
For some time now, Little Turtle, who had just turned ten, had been in the complete charge of his father. On certain days his father would take him far from the village to hunt and learn how to stalk wild game and find their signs. He learned his lessons well. At night in the tepee, he would sit next to his father because he was the youngest, and he would listen carefully while his father explained many things a young brave must know to become a strong and great Comanche warrior.
Because the Comanche village had been at peace for the last three years, Little Turtle had only love in his heart for everyone he knew or met. Sometimes his brothers and his father would speak to him of the hated Apache and Kiowa and the many reasons the Comanches had for hating them. But this meant very little to the lad. He never let such thoughts of war spoil his fun.
One evening after the three boys were asleep, Little Turtle’s father spoke with his mother.
“Blue Star,” he said, “for many days now I have talked to our youngest son of the Apaches and the Kiowas, but he does not seem to understand. I have told him of their many cruel ways and about our warriors who have fallen under the arrow and the tomahawk of the Apaches and the Kiowas. Still he refuses to speak harshly of such neighbors. Maybe Little Turtle is right. Maybe I am wrong in hating these neighbors to the north. You are wise, Blue Star. Your advice is often sought. Tell me now what I should teach our son. Shall I teach him to hate the horse stealers from the north? Or shall I not speak even their names in our daily talks?”
Blue Star thought for a moment and then said, “My husband and great warrior of the Comanches, hatred is a word which Little Turtle will learn soon enough. Now he is young and innocent. He enjoys the coming of each new day for the adventures that it will bring in his world of dreams. He is a happy child and to us a very wonderful boy. Do we want to change this wonderful boy to a grown warrior filled with hate? He knows nothing but love. Possibly peace will be a long time upon our village. We, his parents, would not want to spoil that happy world in which he lives.”
Great Hawk thought long about his wife’s words. Then he left the tepee to walk alone and solve this problem which lay so heavily upon his heart. Since his early days, Great Hawk had been taught to hate the Apaches and the Kiowas. His own father had lost his life in a battle with the Apaches. His brother’s hair now hung from the tepee of Grey Wolf, the Kiowa chieftain who sat at the head of the council lodge. And Grey Wolf was a cruel leader of a tribe that always looked for enemies to kill.
Great Hawk knew that he had strong personal reasons for hating the tribes to the north. But was it right for him to think of punishing his son for not hating them, too, in the way he did? Until he had talked with Blue Star, he had planned to question his son tomorrow about the Apaches and Kiowas, and if his son did not show a growing hatred toward them, then he would punish him. But now he was not sure. No, he would wait and be patient. After all, as Blue Star had said, there had been peace for three years now. Thoughts of war were kept alive only by the young bucks of the tribe who were eager for battle and glory. War was far from the minds of the older and wiser men of the tribe. They knew that peace had brought them prosperity and happiness, but war made them poor and brought them hunger and pain and the death of friends.