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He returned from the war in Vietnam and couldn’t adjust back to the everyday routine he had left behind. His wife and child had died, and now, his one-room apartment located in the slums of Boston seemed to close in around him. He took to the mountains to rid his life of the dog-eat-dog society that he was living in. Will had only one plan in mind in order to keep his sanity, and he had the determination to conquer it. He built a cabin in the woods along the St. John River in the desolated Allagash Wilderness of Maine. What few people that were around him he did not mind, as most were Micmac Indians that scoured the woods for past generations. He fought the perils of the animals that provoked him, and when word reached the city that the son of Boston’s most prestigious bank president was living like a mountain man, Elizabeth Tusic from the Boston Herald forsaw a story in it. She wrote the first story after weaseling her way into Will’s camp and stealing his daily memoirs; the second story had cost two lives and almost more. One of the most legendary questions of the northern forest was starting to unravel.