Today's story is a stark reminder as to why you should always read the fine print. But before we get into today's story, if you're a fan of the Strange, Dark, and mysterious delivered in story format, then you've come to the right place because that's all we do, and we upload once a week. If that's of interest to you, the next time the like button asks you to edit one of their YouTube videos, agree to do it, but then just permanently delete their channel. Also, please subscribe to our channel and turn on all notifications so you don't miss any of our weekly uploads. Okay, let's get into today's story. On the morning of August seventh, 1981, a 34-year-old wildlife photographer named Carl McCun, stood on the edge of a lake in the Alaskan wilderness and chucked a box of ammunition into the water. The splash rush it made was surprisingly loud in the total silence that surrounded him. Carl was on the last day of a five-month-long solo camping trip in a very remote area of northern Alaska that was actually inside the Arctic Circle. A plane had dropped him off here in early spring, and he had set up his tent by this lake, which was surrounded on all sides by forest and huge snowy mountains.
During this five-month trip, Carl had not seen or spoken to another person the entire time. There were no phones, no roads, no rangers, no people around for at least 100 miles. I mean, this is true isolation. Carl looked up into the sky and listened carefully for the low roar of the plane that was supposed to pick him up today. But as he listened, he couldn't hear anything. But this didn't worry to Karl because he actually had only arranged for his pickup date, not the pickup time. So it was just at some point on this day he was going to get picked up. He didn't know exactly when. And so as he anxiously waited, he just potted around his campsite and continued to pack up his things. As Karl did this, he remembered that the type of plane that was going to be picking him up today, it was his buddy Rory's plane, it was really small. There was a chance that he couldn't actually fit all of his belongings on the plane. In anticipation of this, he had identified that he didn't need all of his ammo, and so that's why he was chucking his ammo into the lake, basically in preparation for pickup.
Just then, a breeze kicked up, and so Carl zipped his parka up to his chin. This was actually the so-called warm season in the Arctic circle, but warm in the Arctic circle meant still near freezing temperatures at night. As much as Carl loved being out in the wilderness, doing these solo camping trips out in the middle of nowhere, he really was excited to get back to his home in Anchorage, Alaska, and see his friends, and call his dad, and be in a nice warm house for once. Carl was about to chuck his sixth and final box of ammunition into the lake when he heard the loud sound of a wolf howling on the other side of the lake. It made him stop for a second and he decided that You know what? Maybe until the plane gets here, I'll hold on to at least one box of ammunition. So he stuck this final box into his bag. He picked it up, and then he walked along the shoreline up to where he had rigged a net to catch some fish. When he got to the net, he saw he had caught two out. He scooped the fish out, he went back to his campsite, he made a fire, cooked the fish, and as he sat down to eat them, he just kept looking up to the sky and listening, hoping for this plane to arrive soon.
When he was done eating, Carl made a quick entry into his diary, detailing the last day at camp, and then he finished packing up all his stuff, and he brought it all down to the waterline ready to be picked up, and then he sat on his trunk, again, just waiting for his friend to show up. By this time, it was about mid-afternoon, and still no sign of the plane. But nonetheless, Carl sat there taking in the scene, this beautiful lake in nature. I mean, this is the last time he's going to be here, and so he's trying to appreciate it. After all, this had been a really successful photography trip. He had shot 500 rolls of film that he knew he could sell, and that would make enough that he'd be able to do this again the following year. As Carl sat there taken in the scene and daydreaming about next year's trip, he noticed the sun was beginning to set. When he noticed this, this was the first time that Carl actually became worried. This far north, the sun stayed out for nearly 20 hours a day in the summer. If the sun was setting right now, that meant it had to be near midnight.
So his friend Rory, who was supposed to pick him up today, at some point today, well, now that we've hit midnight, Carl knew his friend had officially missed the date, and Carl had no way of contacting him to see what had happened or when he would be here. And so as dusk fell, and still there was no sign of Rory, Carl continued to get more and more anxious. And finally, he had to reset up his tent, and he craw inside, got in a sleeping bag, and went to sleep praying that his friend would be there the next day. The next day, Carl got up early and packed up his stuff and waited by the shoreline for his friend, but All day he waited, and the plane still never came. Carl tried to convince himself that maybe his friend got mixed up on the dates or maybe something came up that's delayed him a couple of days, but he'll be here. But then another day came and went, and then another, and still no plane. It was around this time that Carl remembered something that made him feel sick to his stomach. On the night, six months earlier, when he and Rory had discussed pickup plans, Carl remembered that night had been filled with drinking.
I mean, these guys were just laughing and having a good time. At some point, as the beers were flowing, Carl had asked Rory, Hey, can you pick me up on August seventh at the end of my trip? Rory had said, Yeah, I can probably do that. But Rory had also said that he would have to check his schedule first before he could 100% commit to this. Carl, in his excitement about going on this trip and getting ready for it and all that, had just forgotten to follow up with Rory and make absolutely sure he could pick him up. And so now Carl was realizing that Rory wasn't delayed or mixed up about the dates. Rory wasn't coming. And Carl knew there was zero chance of another plane just happening to fly over the area and that plane picking him up. I mean, for the entire summer Carl had been out here, he had literally not seen any planes. His best hope was that his dad or maybe one of his friends would report him missing, but he knew that was unlikely, and it actually was his own doing. Carl traveled constantly and almost never told people where he was going or for when he'd be back.
On one trip recently, Carl had gone out and missed his return date, and his dad had been concerned about him, and so called the police. When Carl had come back and realized what his dad did, he told his dad to never do that again. Never contact authorities if I'm late. I'm fine. And all of this meant now, Carl was going to face a brutal Alaskian winter all by himself with limited supplies and only a single box of ammunition. Hey, it's Mr. Balin here, and I am so excited to tell you all about a brand new podcast from Balin Studios called Redacted Declassified mysteries, hosted by the incredible Luke LaMana. From covert government experiments to bizarre assassination attempts, redacted dives deep into the astonishing true stories of uncovered secrets, lies, and deception within the world's most powerful institutions. Governments and military services around the globe have always cloaked themselves in secrecy. Agency. But history shows that when you try too hard to hide something, it only makes people more curious. Luke and his team have spent months researching these totally true and thoroughly twisted tales, guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat. Stories like the mind bending truth behind Operation Paper Club, where former Nazi scientists were smuggled into America to advance US technology and intelligence during the Cold War, or the shocking story of Charles Manson and the CIA, revealing how a notorious cult might have been entangled in a web of covert operations.
Trust me when I tell you the stories are real and the secrets are shocking. Follow redacted Declassified mysteries with Luke Lamana on the WNDRI app or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can listen Ad free right now by joining WNDRI Plus in the WNDRI app or on Spotify. A few weeks later, at the end of August, Carl was still stuck out in the Alaska in wilderness. By now, Carl had fully accepted that Rory was not going to come pick him up, and Carl was doing his best not to fixate on his stupid mistake. He figured he had two choices. The first one was that he could just stay put and hope to be rescued. This was the It was a conservative option. He knew how to get food and also firewood near his campsite, so he wouldn't starve to death and he wouldn't freeze. But this would only keep him alive. This would not actually get him rescued. The other choice was that Carl could pack up his campsite and attempt to basically hike out of here 75 miles to the nearest city called Fort Yukon. Now, this could get him home, but with it came a much higher chance of death.
If Carl did the hike, well, those 75 miles would be over extremely rough terrain with absolutely zero human-made trails. One little slip up and he could fall and get hurt or get lost. And also finding food was a toss-up, and the weather at best would be brutal and at worst would be fatal. Plus, the entire region those 75 miles were in was absolutely teeming with wolves. Carl knew both of these choices were bad, but he was running out of time to make a decision. The brutal Arctic winter was fast approaching, and if Carl was going to attempt this horrible hike, he would really have to do it soon. As Karl thought about what he was going to do, he trudged his way over to one of his rabbit snares, and he was so happy to see he had caught a rabbit. He took the rabbit back to camp and he cooked it over the fire. As he's eating it, he's thinking, You know what? This isn't so bad. I caught food for now. I mean, this will keep me alive at least for a couple of days. Maybe I should just stay here. But deep down, he knew the staying put option was not a real option.
I mean, even though, yes, by staying here, he could keep himself from starving, he knew how to get food and all that, well, he'd still be a sitting duck for all the predators in the area, and there were many. Remember, he only has one box of ammunition. But just then, Carl heard the most glorious sound, the distant wine of a small plane engine. At first, he thought he must be hearing things. Remember, he has not seen a plane at all since he got here. But sure enough, he looked up into the sky, and a second later, he saw a plane flying directly towards his camp, low and slow. Carl ran in his tent and grabbed the most brightly-colored thing he could find, his sleeping bag, which was bright orange. He ran outside of his tent and began waving it back and forth to get the pilot's attention. Carl saw the plane belonged to the Alaska State Troopers, and so he figured his friends must have reported him missing, and now the police were out to rescue him. A moment later, the plane passed directly over Carl's camp, so low to the ground that Carl could actually see the pilot looking back at him.
Carl looked right at the pilot's eyes, and when Carl was nearly certain he had just made eye contact with the pilot, he threw his fist up in the air in excitement and jumped up and down. He couldn't believe it. He was saved. The pilot was going to land and take him home. With a big grin on his face, Carl watched as this plane, sure enough, made a big U-turn. And then Carl watched the plane make another pass over the camp, low and slow, which Carl figured meant the pilot was looking for a place to land. And so as the pilot was doing that, Carl rushed to his campsite and began packing everything up. And as he did, he's keeping an eye out, watching the plane, looking for it to land. But it didn't. The plane just kept on flying straight away, away from Carl's campsite, until it disappeared over the horizon. For the rest of the day, Carl just stared off into the distance, hoping for this plane to come back. But it didn't. Lying inside his tent that night, Kroll couldn't sleep. He was so shaken up by what had happened that day. He didn't understand.
He saw the pilot. The pilot seemed like they were looking back at him. Why didn't they land? Why didn't they stop? Kroll told himself that maybe the terrain was too rough and there was no way for the pilot to land. That was possible. Perhaps this pilot was flying back and getting another plane, maybe a float plane, to land on the water. Kroll didn't know, but he felt like that could be a possibility, and it made him feel a little bit better. But he still couldn't relax enough to sleep. And so, knowing he was just going to lay there all night, he sat up, turned on his a sunlight and began looking for something to read just to occupy his mind. Now, at this point, Carl has been out in the wilderness all alone for months and months, and he's been stranded for weeks. He has read all of his books and all of his magazines like a million times. He's even read his diary dozen times. I mean, he's read everything. As he was looking around his tent, he was looking for literally anything else to read. Suddenly, he found something, his hunting license. It was like the one thing he had not closely read.
Not an exciting thing to read, but knew. It was just a little paper certificate with some rules and regulations and safety tips about hunting. Carl just began reading the front and he read it all the way down. Then he flipped it over and he continued reading. But then he saw something that made his heart practically stop. At first he thought maybe he misunderstood, but no, he read it over and over again and it was very clear. And so Carl looked up in shock. He suddenly understood why that pilot had left him. For weeks, Carl stayed close to his camp, just hoping and praying that somehow, someway, that plane would still come back. But it never did. And by the time Carl had actually accepted this fact that really the plane's not coming back, well, by that point, it was too late to try to hike out. So all he could do was stay put. However, the lake had frozen over so he couldn't fish. His snares all sat empty because all the wolves and foxes got to his catches before he could. By October, Carl was getting really skinny. By November, Carl was genuinely starving.
On November 26th, Thanksgiving Day, Carl laid inside of his tent and made a diary entry. There would be no Thanksgiving feast for him today. His food stores were totally gone, and the Arctic winter was getting so, so bad. In fact, his fingers and toes were turning black from frostbite, and he was sick all the time and constantly had chills. As Karl wrote in his diary, he looked out the tent flap at his dying fire, knowing he had no more firewood. He knew he only had one choice left to make. He scratched a final sentence into his diary. He wrote, They say it doesn't hurt. Then he set his diary on the floor of the tent near his rolls of film. Then he reached for his rifle and his last box of ammo. A little A while later, a single shot rang out across the lake. A couple months later, in early February of 1982, Alaska State Troopers would find Karl. Karl was deceased. He had taken his own life. What Carl had only realized later was that when he made that fist pump, when he was so excited, when that pilot had flown overhead and he thought he was going to get rescued, well, that fist pump had sealed his fate because, like it said on Carl's hunting license, a single arm raised in the air is the universally recognized body sign for all okay, do not wait.
When that Alaska State Trooper pilot flew over Carl's camp, he did make eye contact with Carl. He saw him, but he also saw Carl raising his fist in the air and thought he was okay, and so he turned around and he left. If Carl had only read that hunting license a little bit sooner, he would have known to have raised two hands in the air as the pilot flew over for the universal sign that means, Pick me up. And now, here is a clip from the latest episode of Redacted. Enjoy.
On May second, 1945, A US Army private stood guard at the base of a remote mountain in Austria. He was still riding high from the news he'd heard on the radio recently. German leader Adolf Hitler had committed suicide. The soldier knew it was just a matter of time until World War II was over and he could go back home to America. Just then, he noticed someone barreling down the mountain on a bicycle. The soldier realized it was a young man with blonde hair and civilian clothes, but he couldn't tell if the man was friend or foe. He pointed his gun at the man as he hurdled toward him. He wasn't about to risk anything in the last days of the war. He ordered the man to drop his bike and put up his hands. The man did as he was told. Then in broken English, he said he was one of hundreds of scientists that worked for the Nazi regime who had gone into hiding because Nazi leadership had ordered them to be executed. The man said the Nazis would rather kill them than risk them being captured by the Allies and revealing their knowledge of Hitler's secret weapons.
The man insisted the scientists wanted to surrender to the Americans. And not only that, they wanted to help the Americans by sharing with them the secrets of the Nazi's deadly new missile, the V-2 rocket. The soldier looked the man up and down, taking in his fancy gray leather overcoat. He was making a very bold claim, and the soldier couldn't tell if he was lying. He was a Nazi, after all. But if what the man said was true, it could potentially change the future of the world.
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