MIRACLE AT HOMINY FALLS: SIX SURVIVE 10-DAY SUBTERRANEAN VIGIL

 

NICHOLAS JOURNAL

PRICE: TEN CENTS — EXTRA EDITION — NICHOLAS COUNTY, WEST VIRGINIA — THURSDAY, MAY 16, 1968

MIRACLE AT HOMINY FALLS: SIX SURVIVE 10-DAY SUBTERRANEAN VIGIL

THE BREAKTHROUGH: 1:05 A.M. THURSDAY

The suffocating silence that has gripped the Gauley River valley for ten days was finally shattered at 1:05 a.m. this morning. Deep within the crushing weight of the mountain, the frantic, rhythmic clink of rescue picks finally breached the void. Rescuers Roy Simmons and Kermit Stanley were the first to see their cap lamps illuminate a sight that Nicholas County had almost ceased to pray for: the gaunt, soot-stained faces of six living men. As the survivors were brought toward the drift mouth, the stillness of the night near the turbulent currents of the Gauley erupted into a roar of thanksgiving that echoed off the ancient cliffs.

The men who cheated the dark and returned to the light are Junior Moore, Joe Fitzwater, Jennings Lilly, Larry Lynch, Edward Scarbro, and Gene Martin. While the community rings the bells of joy, the triumph remains draped in the heavy shadow of the coal face; these six emerged from a tomb that still holds four of their brothers who did not reach the high ground in time.

THE MONDAY MAYHEM: THE JET ENGINE ROAR

The ordeal began on the morning of May 6, when the heavy rhythm of the morning shift was replaced by a terrifying vibration. Survivors described the initial disaster not as a flood, but as a sound—a "jet engine roar" that signaled the end of the world.

The Water Breakthrough Sequence: First, the Roar: A sudden, overwhelming sound as water from adjacent workings tore through the coal. Second, the Inundation: A violent surge of water that filled the workings with terrifying speed. Third, the Loss: The confirmed loss of four fellow miners who were caught in the initial torrent. Fourth, the Tactical Retreat: The desperate crawl of the remaining six into the cramped sanctuary of Room No. 2.

In this air pocket, the men faced a claustrophobic reality that would break lesser souls. The ceiling hung a mere 34 inches high, forcing the survivors to spend 240 hours primarily on their bellies, breathing the heavy, damp air of the deep.

TEN DAYS IN THE DARK: THE SURVIVAL TENT

To survive the rising damp and the leaching cold of the earth, the men displayed an ingenuity born of desperation. They constructed a makeshift survival tent using three layers of brattice cloth, huddling together to preserve the precious warmth of their bodies against the mountain’s chill. Their discipline was as iron-clad as the coal they once mined. They looked at their meager supplies and realized that if the mountain was to be their home, it would be a hungry one.

RATIONS OF THE TRAPPED

• Four Sandwiches (Shared Among Six)
• Three Candy Bars (Shared Among Six)
• The Final Seven Days: No Food at All.

For a full week, the men existed on nothing but prayer and the occasional sip of water, their stomachs twisting in the dark as they waited for a rescue that many feared would never come.

THE BLACK DAMP AND THE SHOVEL

As the days bled into one another, the threat shifted from the water to the very air. "Black damp"—the miner’s ancient enemy of oxygen-deficient air—began to settle into their 34-inch crawlspace. It was here that the regional grit of the Nicholas County people was most profoundly tested. Joe Fitzwater, a man carrying the lineage of a family that has been a cornerstone of this land since the days of the old circuit riders, finally succumbed to the foul air and fainted.

In a space so low that a man cannot stand, his companions refused to let the mountain take him. When Fitzwater could no longer crawl, the men placed him on a mining shovel. Through the muck and the narrow 34-inch gap, they took turns dragging his unconscious form to a higher point where the air was marginally thinner, refusing to abandon a son of the Fitzwater clan to the dark.

THE SUNDAY ERROR: AN IRONIC SALVATION

There is a profound, divine irony in the "Miracle at Hominy Falls" that many are calling an act of Providence. On Sunday, a technical mapping error led rescue teams to bypass Room No. 1. At the time, the mistake felt like a crushing blow to the operation’s momentum.

However, this error proved to be their salvation. Had the rescue teams been precise and breached Room No. 1 first, they likely would have punctured the delicate air pocket that kept the six men breathing. The "Miracle" was earned through a human failure; the surveyors’ mistake preserved the very oxygen the men needed to survive until Roy Simmons and Kermit Stanley could make the final breakthrough. It is a story that will be told as long as the Gauley flows: how a missed turn saved six lives.

EXTRACTION AND THE DRIFT MOUTH PRAYER

The final hours of the rescue were a blur of mud, sweat, and the glimmer of cap lamps. Through Wednesday night and into the predawn hours of Thursday, the community stood vigil. Hominy Creek—a "prosy name" that once seemed to murder the poetry of the landscape—has now become the site of a subterranean legend.

As each man was pulled from the drift mouth, a spontaneous "Prayer of Thanksgiving" rose from the crowd. Families who had spent ten days in the shadow of grief embraced their men, who were caked in the dust of a ten-day vigil. The Nicholas County sun rose today on a community that is weary, but whole in spirit. The long night at Hominy Falls is over.

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