Ben Kerido / The Western Journal
The unmistakable smell of smoke drifted into my apartment just outside of Jerusalem.
Setting aside my preparations for an upcoming meeting with a client, I peered out the window. Two stray kittens that had become unapologetic squatters in our backyard garden glanced upward, sniffing at the air suspiciously. I called out to my wife in the other room, and we exited the apartment to get a better look.
In the street, columns of smoke rose around us. The sirens of fire engines wailed as helicopters hovered overhead. Two yellow single-engine planes soared in tight circles above us, searching for flames upon which to drop their tank loads of fire retardant chemicals.
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