“It’s probably just a grass fire,” said the U.N. watchdog. We were perched in an old Israeli military bunker atop a hill overlooking Syria within a mile of our feet. I heard the mortar shells exploding while I searched his expression for any hint of levity. He has to be joking, I thought to myself. I’m no expert in military explosives but I know gunfire when I hear it. He returned only a stoic gaze.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing before me. I could be there in 10 minutes if I started walking toward the sounds of war. James peered into his binoculars as if to look officious and then back toward us. A grass fire.
I’ve just spent a most amazing 10 days in Israel. So much to tell and so little conscious daylight in which to tell it. Stay tuned as I soon recount this life of Riley that I have now found myself leading.