By Lyndall Maag. The Middle Eastern sun beat down on my head, its powerful warmth seeping through my shoulders, stinging my nose and cheeks.  My eyes were continually adjusting to the glare as I walked row upon row, line upon line, of the graves lying in the British Military Cemetery on Jerusalem’s Mount Scopus.  The imposing entry gates are made of wood and the local limestone that is sometimes a yellow cream or dusty pink hue depending on the time … Continue reading