On Thursday, July 27, 2006, Andy Michelson, Director of the American Desk at KKL in Israel traveled to northern Israel to assess the situation. Together with Paul Ginsburg, director of the Forest Department in the northern region, he surveyed the sites hit by Katyusha rockets and the burnt forests. Here is his diary of the day:

Thursday night, July 27, 2006

After a day so full of experiences I hardly know where to start. I saw brave men yesterday. Some who work for KKL some who don't. Men who are trying to save our forests. Men who are trying to keep the north green, often risking their lives to do so.

Firstly, I smell, even after a long shower. I smell of smoke. That woody, burnt smell from sitting around a campfire, only I wasn't at a campfire. Today I visited Israel's northern border and spent time seeing for myself what JNF/KKL is doing at this important time.

I smell from the forest fires I "visited." The thick black smoke not only enters the clothes you wear; it seems to enter the very pores of your skin. I almost feel that it has entered my blood.

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk in "safe" Jerusalem thinking of the brave men and women in Israel's north. I felt that I had to go there and see for myself and in my small way show some support. So I arranged with Paul Ginsburg, KKL Forest Ranger in charge of our Northern Region, to spend the day "tagging along" with him. He said that starting time was 8 a.m. from the Forward Command Post that KKL opened at the Machanayim Junction, north of Rosh Pina.

He said 8am, and I was not going to be late, so I left my house in Jerusalem at 5 a.m. just to be sure.
I didn't want to have him, or anybody else, wait for me. So north I traveled. By 6:30 a.m. traffic in central Israel was starting to flow (most people start work at 7:30). After I passed through the Megiddo junction I noticed traffic getting thinner and thinner. After the Golani Junction it was thinner again, and by the time I got to the Kadderim Junction I felt that I was one of the few left on the road traveling north. It seemed that everybody knew something that I didn't: one should not be traveling north at this point in time.

I arrived at the Forward Command Post (HaPak in Hebrew). It was set up the day after hostilities started when KKL realized the need for our men in the field to be in a forward position with all the necessary equipment and support. I didn't know what to expect.

It happened the moment I opened my car door — boom — did you hear that? Or that? Boom!! Boom!! B O O M!!!

Where had I landed? Nobody seemed to notice. Sounded like huge claps of thunder. Thankfully off in the distant hills. But still. Boom...Boom... and nobody was paying them any attention. By the end of the day I too was "experienced" enough not to jump at each boom though I was still not experienced enough to tell if the boom was one of ours or one of theirs.

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Gearing Up

So I signed in. They took my KKL staff number and I was officially a part of the duty roster. They then issued me with a protective vest (Level III) and a brand new ceramic helmet (50 new helmets arrived at the command post today). I looked silly in this gear, but Paul told me the story of Samech, from the KKL Shlomi Region, who only last week, when working to put out a fire started by an earlier missile, suddenly found himself near a second barrage explosion. He felt a thump in his side, and, thank G-d, his vest stopped a piece of shrapnel from penetrating. Silly looking —yes. Necessary — definitely!

Egal Yacobi from KKL's Hanita region told me that 10 days ago while he was fighting a fire, the windows of his KKL car parked nearby were blown out by a missile that landed near the vehicle. He said he was lucky to have been out of the vehicle.

I continued to watch the teams arrive. Groups of men, tired, dirty, smelling of smoke, but mostly tired. As they walked from their vehicles towards the tent I saw the "fresh" crews ready to replace their colleagues. There were smiles, words of encouragement, and camaraderie that Israelis all know too well. This is the camaraderie of "brothers in arms." These men are fighting a war, a war to protect the forests of Israel's north and this connects them in a special way that nothing, short of battle, would.

There were people I didn't expect to see here. KKL foresters from all over the country had come to the north to fight these fires. Nobody told them to come; in fact they were told not to come. "It's too dangerous!" But come they did, with their equipment, their experience and their energy.

Just before we left Paul introduced me to Yossi Biton. He was a 2nd generation KKL forest ranger. His father had planted the Birya Forest in the early 1950's and he was battling to save his father's work. Sadly he said to me that he was looking at his father's work literally "going up in smoke."

Thank G-D for the Security Roads

Paul and I left the command post, vest and helmet in hand, and drove to our first site — The Malkiyya — Avivim Security road. This road was built by JNF/KKL with donations from donors in America after Israel's withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000. This road that goes on for seven miles has helped the residents of the north lead a normal life, away from the daily threat of Hezbollah snipers and attacks.

We drove along this road. It was quiet, deserted, until we came upon a massive build-up of tanks, troops, and other military equipment using this road.

The road was living up to its name, its purpose — it was giving security. It was a good, fast way to allow our troops and their equipment to get where they need to be for the security of Israel's northern boarder. Yes, it really IS a security road!

As we drove slowly past the men and equipment, an officer approached our car. I was sure he was thinking "who or what idiots are driving up here at this time?" Then he saw that we were KKL and he smiled. He knew that it was KKL, and only KKL, that was fighting to keep the north green. We were also fighting a war — not as dangerous as the war that he and his soldiers were fighting — but a war nevertheless.

Then he said something that made us smile. He said to us: "I don't know who it was that built these roads, but thank G-d they did." Yes, thank G-d.

A Ghost Town and a Forest Fire

Next we drove to Kiryat Shmona. This "Capital of Israel's north" is now a ghost town. All those who were able, have left for friends, relatives or hotels in the south. Those remaining — who have now been in their bomb shelters for 16 long hot days and 15 longer nights — smile as we pass. They are either too poor or to frail to move south. The local council and Israeli government are working hard to help, but there are so many communities, cities, towns, villages, kibbutzim and moshavim. They are spread very thin at the moment.

We visited a KKL park on a hill overlooking the city. It is now being used by the IDF as an observation point. Yesterday it took a hit; today they act as if nothing happened. This is part of the "silent bravery" that I noticed in so many of the people I met today. They don't even consider themselves brave; they are just doing their job. Even if this is not their job, everybody is working together, helping, not complaining, just getting the job done.

As we were driving through the Birya forest looking at the devastation that the fires have caused, we hear the air-raid siren; another attack was under way. Paul and I, wearing our vests and helmets, crouched down by the side of our vehicle and waited. The siren usually sounds between 30 to 60 seconds before the missiles impact, so we just looked at each other.

What does one say as one waits to see/hear an incoming missile? Then, off in the distance — Boom!
A missile fell on the next hill. The siren stopped. Already we began to see the smoke. A fire had begun. The forests are dry. We are in the middle of summer and it takes only a match to set off a fire

We drove towards the site. After a couple of minutes we saw the spray planes dropping their red mist, the chemical fire retardant that we are using so effective against these fires.

We drew closer, saw the smoke rising over the hills and the KKL fire-fighting teams already at work. One was using a brand new fire-fighting truck, just recently donated by the Baltimore community. It is so new we haven't even had time to put a sign on it, but there it was doing the job it was bought for. Thank You Baltimore! Because of you some more of the forest was saved, and more will be saved in the future.

Paul explained to me that we need more of these vehicles; the faster we get to a fire the faster we put it out, and the less forest that is damaged.

After experiencing first-hand the danger and difficulties in fighting the fire, and the all smoke — even wearing the face mask, I found it very difficult to breathe, smoke was everywhere and the wind was just making things worse — his words rang truer still.

As we left the site of the fire I asked Paul what happens to the animals in the forest when there are fires. He explained that there are two types of animals — the fast ones who can usually escape the flames, like foxes, jackals, gazelles and wild boars — and the slow ones who can't get out in time and get caught. Even those who do escape have difficulty finding new homes; their natural habitat is shrinking, and these fires add to that problem.

Red Slush

Our last visit for the day was the Rosh Pina Airport. It is from here that the planes depart with the "Red Slush" (as it is referred to). This slush is a chemical, specially imported from Europe, which when sprayed on a forest, sticks to trees, grass, and land and stops them from burning. We saw its work: a fire stopped in its tracks, and a red film covering everything — trees, roads, cars, and people. Yes, we were at the scene of a fire and a plane covered us in red. Luckily, it just washes off with regular water.

I spoke with Aaron Berenson, the chief pilot. He was proud of the fact that he and his team were flying up to 60 missions a day. He said that they were able to get over the fire within 7- 8 minutes from the time they received the call. They were tired, but the feeling of commitment to their role was matched by that of the KKL men on the ground.

He reiterated what many of the KKL foresters had told me — the faster they get to the fire, the faster they can put it out. With little concern for their own safety these men were flying to the site of the fire even well before the all clear air-raid siren had sounded. Flying dangerously low, to deliver their red cargo as close and as accurately as possible.

Thank you Paul and all the dedicated KKL people who are fighting in this war.

We need to do everything possible to help and support them!