Regarding two emplacements and two puzzles

At the Ein Yabrud junction, in an area whose greenery from time immemorial has been wiped away and whose olive trees that someone who’d once owned the land had planted and cultivated and pruned and from which they’d made a living had been uprooted, and where today, by means of force and with heavy equipment like the bulldozer temporarily sitting at the entrance to the emplacement that overlooks the junction protecting those who recently took over land that didn’t belong to them and on which they built their homes and established a chain of settlements which pop up like poisonous toadstools after the rain, for whom, and in defense of whom soldiers are continually stationed on and about the tower, and from time to time leave the fortified compound and harass Palestinians driving on Highway 465, and bullet casings and spent bullets and remains of grenades are scattered around the fortified compound – all the stories are silent.

Not far from the pillbox at the Ein Yabrud junction juts its brother.  An identical twin overlooking the northern exit road from Ramallah connecting   with the village of Atara which descends from the spot where the tower stands and reaches the main road which runs east to the settlements of Halamish and Ateret and Tzofit and…..

This latter is the older and better fortified of the two, and a new emplacement has been added on one side of the original structure from which the soldiers can observe the side road leading to Palestinian villages, and from which they’re able to fire and injure demonstrators if and when they dare approach.

So there’s a tower surrounded by a fenced, fortified compound and soldiers always above and below, and a winding road in front, but on the official maps that road has no number.  A mute road.  Perhaps because a road that doesn’t serve the settlers doesn’t deserve to be numbered on the map.  Perhaps.

And there’s also a puzzle on both sides of the road, on both sides of the fortress, to the west and the east, structures standing enigmatically, their window eyes sealed and their door mouths blocked.  Lifeless structures.

A large stone building to the west, missing portions of its collapsed walls, its roof sprouting grass, bushes and trees growing from where the floor had been.  It’s surrounded by a fence, no one leaves or enters its wide-open rooms, a building like an aged orphan.

And opposite a concrete structure, completely different from the first, and younger, a house in the style of those built during the fifties, with straight lines and a broad front terrace.

Someone piled sandbags on the roof.  Perhaps to commemorate those days not so long ago when the army trained soldiers for urban combat (which I remember from a few years back).

This house, whose exterior, at least, is undamaged, is also lifeless.

And I’d like the public to assist me:

If someone knows or remembers, or thinks someone they know might know, please help solve the puzzle and resolve the mystery and tell who lived in those two buildings, or in one, and what became of them, did they abandon the houses or were they expelled, and when, and under what circumstances, and to where?