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Book Review: “Lost in Shangri-La” by Mitchell Zuckoff

/ Peter Martuneac / 3 Comments

A coworker of mine who functions as my unofficial, personal librarian lent me a book recently that he thought I’d enjoy. The title? Lost in Shangri-La. Sounded like a fun adventure novel. I soon learned it was not a fictional tale of derring-do but rather a true story of a plane that crashed in an uncharted jungle of New Guinea during World War II.

The events took place in 1945, when the end of the war was in sight and certain areas in the Pacific theater were deemed relatively safe. New Guinea was one such place and it was for that reason that so many women from the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) were stationed here.

New Guinea was and is a beautiful island full of exotic locations that, in the time before the internet, were unimaginable to most Americans. Given the beauty of this far-flung land and the relative safety from enemy ships and planes, some pilots would regularly give tours to the soldiers and civilians stationed there. The tours became especially sought after when one pilot accidentally flew over an uncharted jungle inhabited by thousands of natives. This hidden valley was appropriately dubbed ‘Shangri-La’.

The reason this valley had remained hidden from outside contact for millennia was due to its location. Surrounded by mountains on a vast island surrounded by miles of ocean, there were no paths into the valley whatsoever. Even natives from other parts of the island were unaware of its existence. Planes that had flown far over the island were too high to see any details, and flying low over it was almost unthinkable due to the treacherous mountains and sheer cliff-faces.

I say all that to tell you how a plane could have crashed in such a location. The fact is that it took an exceptionally brave and highly skilled pilot to fly into that valley and get out again safely, even in the best conditions. On this particular flight, none of these things were present. The skilled pilot allowed his untested, ‘newbie’ co-pilot to handle the controls, even when a thick cloud descended over the valley. As a result, the co-pilot did not see a mountain stretching up in front of him until it was too late.

The plane crashed, engulfed in flames. Of the two dozen occupants, only three survived: Corporal Margaret Hastings of the WAC, Lieutenant John McCollum (whose twin brother died in the crash), and Sergeant Kenneth Decker.

I don’t want to spoil too much of the rest of the story, but it’s a fascinating tale of survival in the face of unimaginable grief and adversity. The trio of soldiers had to battle disease, hunger, and the jungle itself as they tried to find a way back to civilization from a jungle that had no maps and no discernable trails. But what scared them the most was the previously uncontacted native population. Would they help the trio of strangers, wounded and lost as they were? Or would the warnings of these people being savage cannibals prove true?

This is a great story not only for history buffs but anyone who marvels at the human spirit and the resilience it shows when we find ourselves in our bleakest moments. I recommend this to any lover of books and especially those lovers of non-fiction.

If you’re like me and this book only makes you hunger more for a fictional adventure through jungles and places lost to time, you can also check out my Ethan Chase treasure hunter series on Amazon! The ebooks are only $4.99 a piece and they come with some fantastic reviews.

Afghanistan: A Year After the Fall

/ Peter Martuneac / 8 Comments

The summer of 2021 was a particularly bad one. Aside from the ravages of Covid-19 and various government responses to the pandemic, we witnessed the collapse of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, the government which America had spent trillions of dollars and thousands of lives to build and maintain.

We all remember what happened. Then-President Donald Trump signed an agreement with the Taliban that America would withdraw all its forces in February of 2021. President Biden extended this date by 6 months to ensure the withdrawal could happen properly. Then, in late July, provincial capitals began to fall like dominoes. Kabul, the capital city, surrendered to the Taliban on August 15, with President Ashraf Ghani fleeing the country.

American forces constructed a perimeter around the airport there as a last line of defense. Taliban soldiers marched the streets as panicked Afghans swarmed the airport, hoping to get on a flight out of the country. Chaos reigned; people clung to the outside of an airplane as it was taking off. Nearly two hundred Afghans and thirteen United States Marines were killed by a suicide bomber. Babies were handed over strands of concertina wire, parents willingly passing their babies to strangers just to get them out of the violence.

Then, on August 30, one year ago today, we left. The last US flight departed Afghanistan, with Major General Chris Donahue being the last American soldier to remain on the ground.

The last American soldier leaving Afghan soil.

Since then, our greatest fears for the people of Afghanistan have been realized. Women and girls are oppressed, forced to wear burkhas and forbidden from school. Men are forbidden from shaving. The ruling Taliban violently put down any dissension or demonstrations. People are starving, children are sold into marriage or slavery, and the country is still not at peace. Anti-Taliban factions, as well as other radical Islamic jihadist groups, are at war with the Taliban.

My heart breaks for the people of Afghanistan. The country has been a hotbed of conflict and violence since the Soviet invasion of 1979. For over 40 years, Afghans have known nothing but warfare and occupation. Their economy is one of the weakest in the world, people making a living on $10 a week. There is almost no modern infrastructure. The literacy rate is barely above 40%.

When I first joined the Marines twelve years ago, I did so because I wanted vengeance for 9/11. I wanted to make the people who killed my countrymen, and anyone who helped them, pay for what they did. By the time I deployed to Afghanistan in 2011 and saw the reality of the situation there, once I’d seen an old man blown to pieces by an IED while his family watched, once I’d seen a young boy killed in an explosion in front of his own home, what I really wanted to do was keep the Afghan people safe from the Taliban. I wanted them to have the same life, opportunities, and safety that I had in America.

Despite my best efforts, Afghanistan is no closer to those things than it was 30 years ago. All we can do now is hope and pray for the people there to one day find peace. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll actually get to see it in our lifetimes.