Real Survival Stories - Buried Alive in a Gold Mine

Episode Date: October 23, 2024

In Tasmania, a deadly seismic tremor brings Todd Russell’s world crashing down on top of him. As a miner, he’s used to working far underground - extracting precious metals from the deep. But when he finds himself trapped in a tiny air pocket, Todd must draw on untapped deposits of fortitude if he’s to survive the unsurvivable… A Noiser production, written by Joe Viner. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Get groceries delivered across the GTA from Real Canadian Superstore with PC Express. Shop online for super prices and super savings. Try it today and get up to $75 in PC Optimum Points. Visit superstore.ca to get started. It's 9.25pm, Tuesday, April 25th, 2006, in northern Tasmania. The small mining town of Beaconsfield slumbers beneath the glow of a crescent moon. Everything is still. Only the crickets break the silence.

The local residents aren't accustomed to such peace and quiet. Normally the night is punctuated by distant blasts and vibrations travelling up through the earth, a constant reminder that work at the nearby gold mine never stops. Tonight, however, the intricate network of tunnels that lies beneath the streets of the town is unusually soundless. April the 25th is Anzac Day in Australia, a day of remembrance for the country's fallen troops. In recognition of the public holiday,

the mine has suspended its blasting operations for 24 hours. A temporary ceasefire. On nightstands all across town, alarm clocks tick from 9.25 to 9.26. And then it happens. The ground convulses with a sudden, violent surge of raw energy. Windows rattle in their frames. Pictures bounce off walls.

Dogs howl from backyard kennels. Up and down the tree-lined streets, screen doors open and bewildered townsfolk stagger barefoot onto their verandas. Neighbors exchange worried looks. Given it's Anzac Day, that can't have been an explosion from the mine. It was something else. Deep, seismic activity which has rattled the earth beneath their feet. Above ground it was scary enough, but what about below? Slowly, heads turn in the direction of the hill that overlooks the town,

and the tall, triangular steel poppet head that sits above the entrance to the mineshaft. A mineshaft that leads deep, deep underground, through darkness and layers of rock. And in this subterranean maze, 925 metres down, miner Todd Russell has just been buried alive. That rock compacted tighter and tighter in around my chest cavity where I wasn't able to take as much oxygen in. I was vomiting the contents of my stomach and I was slowly suffocating. And I just remember laying there in the pitch black darkness thinking, well, you know, this is how my life was Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations.

People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet 34-year-old Todd Russell. In April 2006, Todd and his colleague, Brant Webb, are working deep within the Beaconsfield gold mine when a powerful seismic tremor causes the tunnel to collapse around them. I was in severe pain and I prayed, prayed to the big fella above to take me because I couldn't handle being in the pain that I was in. Todd and Brant are presumed dead,

but in fact they are alive, trapped in a tiny air pocket within the rock, almost a kilometre below the surface, with barely enough room to move. As the hours stretch into days, they'll have to find hitherto untapped deposits of fortitude to survive the unsurvivable. I'm John Hopkins from Noisa. This is Real Survival Stories. It's Tuesday, April 25, 2006, in Beaconsfield, Tasmania.

Todd Russell is watching TV at home. The 34-year-old has just finished a 12-hour shift, and he intends to spend the rest of the day relaxing in front of the football. His pale brown eyes narrow in concentration. His fists lightly clench and unclench as the excitement of the match builds. Todd, who was born and raised in Beaconsfield, was once a promising Aussie Rules football player himself, renowned in these parts for his explosive power and strength. Professional scouts even came to watch him play in the local amateur league,

and it had briefly seemed like fame and fortune awaited, but it never came to pass. Instead, after leaving high school and marrying his childhood sweetheart, Todd started bouncing between odd jobs around town. Times were tough and opportunities scarce. I started off as a factory worker and then I was made redundant from there. I then went into another factory where I was another, you know, I was made redundant from that position as well. I then got into driving trucks for a couple of years and I had a very young family and on the wages that we were

getting as a truck driver back in them early days, you know, we were really struggling as a family to make ends meet. With a young family to support, Todd needed better job security and better pay, which is why, seven years ago, he used contacts around town to secure work at the local gold mine. He landed an entry-level position as a nipper, a dog's body at the bottom of the food chain. They gave me the opportunity to start underground as a nipper with no underground mining experience. So basically I was pretty much everyone's dog. You know, run here, run there, get me this, get me that, you know, deliver this, deliver that, pick the men up, drop the men off.

And I did that for about 12 or 18 months. But Todd progressed up the ranks, driving underground trucks and operating machinery. Eventually, he reached his current position of shot firer, responsible for setting explosive charges to blast through rock and access the precious metal within. In the hierarchical world of the mine, shotfirers are well-respected and well-compensated. But the perks of the job go beyond the competitive salary. In Beaconsfield,

a town whose prosperity depends on the mine, the blue miner's uniform is worn like a badge of honour. Todd's proud to work there, even if the negatives have started to outweigh the positives. When I first walked into that lift to go underground for the first time, you felt like a man, you know, because back then it was a male dominant industry but the thing is you know i when i first started working i really enjoyed working there but i grew to hate it very very quickly underground mining is grueling high-risk work accidents are a common occurrence at beacons field from malfunctioning machinery to rock falls, cave-ins and flash floods. For Todd and his fellow miners, it's not a question of if something bad will happen.

It's a question of when. Seeing a lot of different things and a lot of potentials for accidents to happen and seeing accidents happen. But the thing is, as a male, you take that perspective that it's not going to happen to me, it's going to but the thing is as a male you take that perspective it's not going to happen to me it's going to happen to somebody else but eventually your number will come up todd glances up from the football as his wife carolyn appears in the doorway he's down to do another night shift later and she's asking what food he wants in his crib bag todd just grunts and turns back to the TV.

He tells Carolyn that he isn't going into work this evening. He's too tired after a long week. They'll have to make do without him. The truth is, working underground can take its toll. And as a volunteer in the mine rescue team, Todd has witnessed firsthand the safety problems that plague the mine. The abundant groundwater that flows through cracks in the rock. The frequent seismic tremors that cause the walls to crack, split, and tremble.

In the last few months, he's even considered quitting his job underground and applying for a position on the surface, maybe in the mine security team. With that in mind, perhaps staying in his boss's good books isn't such a bad idea. I sat there and I stewed on it a little bit because I'd had a bit of time off previous to Anzac Day and I thought, well, you know, if I have another night off tonight, I'm only going to get into trouble with management. So I've got 12 hours to go. I said, I'll just chuck with some curry chicken pies and a crib bag and whatnot. I'll go to work. I've got 12 hours to go. I said, just chuck with some curry chicken pies and a big crib bag and whatnot and I'll go to work. I've got 12 hours to go and I'm going to come home. From the director of The Greatest Showman

comes the most original musical ever. I want to prove I can make it. Prove to who? Everyone. So the story starts. Better better man now playing in select theaters with td direct investing new and existing clients could get one percent cash back great that's one percent closer to being part of the one Maybe, but definitely 100% closer to getting 1% cash back with TD Direct Investing. Conditions apply. Offer ends January 31st, 2025. Visit td.com slash dioffer to learn more.

It's about 5pm at the gold mine. Todd, dressed in overalls and a hard hat, crosses the main site to the entrance of the shaft. Gold has been mined in Beaconsfield since the 1870s. Scattered among the ventilation pumps and refinery chimneys are crumbling red brick buildings, vestiges of the site's Victorian past. Todd signs in, passes through the safety gates, and, along with the other men on the night shift, steps inside the cage at the top of the mineshaft. His ears pop as the cage descends vertically into the earth.

100 meters. 200. 300. All the way down to 375 meters, roughly as deep as the Empire State Building is tall. At this level, the lift opens to a wide, cavernous platform. Four-wheel drive utility vehicles zip this way and that, hauling buckets piled high with gold-bearing quartz ore. Todd and his colleagues head over to the crib room.

Inside, shift boss Gavin Cheeseman is delegating tasks. Soon, all the men have been allocated duties except for Todd and two other miners, Brunt Webb and Larry Knight. Todd nods at Larry, a bookish and softly spoken man of 44, the pair of good friends. As for Brant, Todd barely knows him. They've worked together for years, but never on the same shift. Todd understands the 37-year-old is something of a class clown with an impish sense of humor. Gavin turns to the three men. He wants them to journey down to an area of the mine known as 925 West, nearly a kilometer below the surface.

Todd scratches his goatee, frowning and sighing. 925 West has another name too. Among the miners, it's known as bad ground. Bad ground means you have the potential of rockfall. Over the course of the years, there's been some significant rockfalls within Beaconsfield. I've had areas that I've been working in and left the area to go home and in between me knocking off and the next shift coming on, there's been a massive rockfall in that area the likelihood of rock fall only increases with time the constant drilling and blasting subjects the bedrock to enormous levels of stress

when that stress becomes too great waves of seismic energy are released mini earthquakes that can lead to fractures, cave-ins, and rock bursts. To minimize the risk of catastrophe, miners leave undisturbed pillars of quartz in place to absorb the shockwaves. The trouble is, in Beaconsfield, the highest grade ore is found in the deepest reaches of the mine, and the gold contained within the pillars there is simply too precious to be left alone. In recent years, management has ordered these vital supportive structures to be mined out, replacing them with potentially weaker substitutes of cement

and waste rock. Some of the workers, Todd included, have expressed concern about the removal of the pillars, and the dire implications it could have for the men toiling at those deeper levels. Levels like 925 West, which Todd, Brant, and Larry have just journeyed down to. They're building a retaining wall, a barrier separating the end of the tunnel from the empty void left behind by the removal of ore. As he shovels rubble, Todd glances up at the ceiling. In his headlamp's glare, the rock looks ragged and snaggletoothed, clumsily held together by a patchwork of reinforcing mesh, bolts and steel plate. He listens out for seismic activity, telltale sounds from deep within the bedrock. I was actually working in the same area the night before and the ground was very loud and noisy, popping and cracking

and it was actually singing and talking to us, that's what we'd use in terms of underground mining. And I was even hit by a rock the night before. Todd strains his ears. But the contrast from last night is striking. You can't hear a thing. There was just dead silence. And to me now, sitting back here thinking,

that was the calm before the storm. But the thing is, when you do the same job day in, day out, you know, for years upon end, you get complacent and pay the ultimate sacrifice. Once they've finished building the foundations of the retaining wall, the next step is to connect a sheet of wire netting from the top of the wall to the ceiling. This requires a teleloader, an industrial vehicle with a steel basket attached

to an extendable arm. Before getting started, Todd walks back to the entrance of the tunnel for a drink of water. Sweat pours off him. Down here, the temperature holds at a constant sweltering 35 degrees, with jungle-like humidity created by evaporating groundwater. When he gets back, Larry and Brant are deep in negotiations. I placed my water bottle on the back of the light vehicle and I proceeded to walk up to where Brant and Larry were having a conversation beside a telly loader. As I approached, I saw Brant reach to his pocket and pull out a coin

and he tossed that coin in the air and he said to larry what do you want heads or tails brant and larry are arguing over who gets the relatively easy job of operating the teleloader and who's going in the basket alongside todd to do the real hard graft larry wins the toss brant curses and shakes his head in disappointment. But you can't argue with a coin. With Larry in the cab of the loader, Brant and Todd climb into the basket. It's a tight squeeze for two big, burly men, less than 1.5 meters across. They quickly get to work, drilling the wire netting into place.

After a couple of hours, the men stop for a break. Todd reaches for his water bottle as Brandt lights up a cigarette. 925 meters down, it is 925 pm. At that moment, a gust of wind tears down the tunnel, blowing the cigarette from Brant's lips. Then, before he or Todd has a chance to speak, it's the loudest noise Todd has ever heard. A cataclysmic, earth-shattering bang. The next thing he knows, he's in complete darkness, splayed on the floor of the basket,

with several tons of rock on top of him. To both Brant and I, it was instantaneous, as quick as you could blink. You know, you didn't have a chance to run, you didn't have a chance to duck, it was just instantaneous. Todd tries to move, straining to shift just a millimetre, but he can't. He is encased in rock, and its grip is tightening. This time I heaved up to try and free myself. That rock compacted tighter and tighter in around my chest cavity.

I just remember laying there in the pitch black darkness and I prayed, prayed to the big fella above to take me because I couldn't handle being in the pain that I was in. The life is being squeezed from Todd's body. He stops resisting. But then, something comes to him. Laying there just waiting to take my last breath. I had an image appeared, and that was an image of myself and Carolyn and the three children from a family portrait that we'd had done only weeks before.

I took that as inspiration. I thought, well, you know, I'm not going to let this beat me. It's 9.30pm. Over 900 meters beneath the Earth's surface, Todd fills his lungs and screams for help. His only hope is Brunt. But in response, there's only silence. Deafening, suffocating silence.

Trying to stay calm, Tod calls his colleague's name again and again. And then… Brandt's voice answers from somewhere close by, telling him to hold on. Slowly, the enormous pressure bearing down on Todd starts to ease. He can feel Brandt's hands clawing at the rocks around his head, scraping sediment away from his airways. With his face cleared of debris, Todd coughs, splatters, and foams at the mouth. The boulders pressing down on his torso are forcing the contents of his stomach up through his throat. Vomit spills down into his beard. Gradually, though, movement returns to his limbs. He lets out a guttural, animal roar.

And, with a burst of explosive power, manages to wrench his arms free of their entrapment. We set about removing the rock that was covering my entire body and, you know, some of them rocks were the size of 50 cent pieces and others were the sizes of footballs. Todd's headlamp was destroyed in the rockfall. Brant's must have gone out too, because their only source of light comes from the flame of his cigarette lighter. It flickers, revealing bent steel railings and lumps of crystalline quartz. The entire tunnel has collapsed around them, forming a tight encasement around the teleloader basket. Beyond the railings, on all four sides,

rubble seals them in. They're trapped, imprisoned in a space no bigger than a dog crate. We couldn't stand up. All we could do was toss and turn, lay on our side or lay on our back. And, you know, if you laid on your back, you just looked at rock, you know,

300 mil above your head, you know, like it was virtually touching you on the nose. Finally free from the rubble, Todd lies on his side, breathing hard. His compressed nerve endings fizzle with pain. The only part of him that doesn't hurt is his left leg, which has lost all feeling. Meanwhile, Brant has found his head lamp, a tiny mercy. He switches it on. The beam sweeps across the cramped, confined space, illuminating a scene even worse than they feared. The ceiling isn't a single slab of rock,

but rather a precarious jumble of loose shards, some as sharp as knives, packed together like a horizontal Jenga tower. We had hundreds of tons of rocks suspended above us like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle and, you know, we only needed one piece of that rock to move and it was going to be fatal for both Brant and myself. A trickle of water drips from a crack between the rocks. Brant removes his helmet and positions it below the leak. It could provide a life-saving source of drinking water.

Todd notices that Brant's breathing is shallow and his hands are trembling. As a member of the mine rescue team, Todd has undergone confinement training for scenarios exactly like this. One of the first things they teach you is to do your utmost to stay calm. Claustrophobia can be a killer. The next lesson is to keep those around you calm too.

Todd reassures Brandt that help will arrive soon, that their colleagues will already be looking for them. They just need to follow protocol, sit tight, stay ready and wait for rescue. But as the two men lie there, the rock above them shudders, releasing a shower of dust and shale. You know, both Brandt and I were laying there listening to the seismicity of the ground.

It just sounded like a freight train running up and down a railway line. You know, you could hear it coming, you could hear it go across the top, you hear more rock fall on top of us. Brant turns to Todd. He's not just going to lie here and wait to get crushed. He's going to find a way out. Their only option is a small pocket of empty space to the right of the basket. Todd still can't feel his left

leg. He's immobile. But Brandt manages to squirm through the railings into this gap. He scours the walls, his headlamp flitting across a sloping mound of dense, compacted scree. The remains of the half-finished retaining wall they started building earlier. Maybe, by tunnelling through this pile of gravel, he could find a way out. Brandt claws at the ground, digging until his rubberised gloves have worn away at the fingertips. I was incapacitated. There wasn't anything I could do. But Brandt took it upon himself to try and dig us to freedom. But, you know, with the rock that had fallen, some of them rocks were

half the size of motor vehicles, you know, like you basically, you physically couldn't move them. Undeterred, Brant continues digging. He becomes feverish, frantic, a man possessed. They come up with a system. Brant digs for 20 minutes, then rests for 10. When 10 minutes are up, Todd calls out, and Brant resumes his task. He keeps this up for an astonishing 24 hours, a full day and night. Finally, Todd hears Brant cry out in dismay. He has hit a wall of wire mesh, blocking his path. He has managed to burrow about five meters,

but without bolt cutters to break through this obstacle, that's as far as he's going to get. Brant returns to the basket, caked in dirt, his spirits shattered. It's confirmed. Their one potential escape route is blocked. All they can do now is sit here and wait. You're a podcast listener, and this is a podcast ad heard only in Canada. Thank you. ad like this one across thousands of shows to reach your target audience with Libsyn ads.

Email bob at libsyn.com to learn more. That's b-o-b at l-i-b-s-y-n dot com. It's Thursday night. Todd glances at the glowing digits of his watch. They've been trapped for over 48 hours, though down here time has become meaningless. With no way to distinguish night from day, it all morphs into one perpetual present. To conserve its battery, they've kept the head torch switched off unless absolutely necessary. The one upshot of sitting in total darkness is that they don't have to stare at the ceiling, watching the rocks quiver above their heads, suspended seemingly in defiance of gravity. We didn't know for one second that the next piece of rock that falls could be the straw that brought the camels back and bring it tumbling in on both Brent and myself and kill us. All they can do is cling on to the hope that they'll be found before the roof comes crashing down.

It's an excruciating test of mental resilience. In the endless sprawl of hours, Todd and Brant lean on each other for moral support and distraction. But getting to know each other proves more difficult than expected. It quickly becomes clear that aside from their shared occupation, the two miners have nothing in common. I like fords, he likes holdens, you know. I like shooting, he likes fishing, you know. Two completely different people.

One thing they do have in common is a family waiting for them above ground. Brunt tells Todd all about his wife and two kids. Todd, in turn, speaks about Carolyn and their three, 11-year-old Trent, 9-year-old Madison, and little Liam, just five. When the conversation peters out, both men retreat into their own little worlds. The mind is probably the biggest thing to get you through it and for me to get through it was that image of me and Carolyn

and the three kids and each time I got down and I wanted to cry and give up I closed my eyes and focused in on that image and thought no I can't, I've got to fight for that. I fight for that. Todd breathes in and out slowly. He's got to stay level to keep despair at bay. Beside him, Brant shivers violently. The water leaking through the ceiling has increased from a drip to a trickle.

It splashes on the rocks and onto the two miners, whose body temperatures are steeply declining. Their stomachs growl with hunger. All they have for food is a muesli bar that Brant fished out of his pocket. They've resisted until now, but as they approach their 50th hour trapped, they allow themselves a tiny nibble. How much longer can they last? By now, the mine rescue team must have worked out where they are. They'll be strategizing how to access their position. Todd and Brant just need to be patient.

But deep down, a nagging feeling pulls at them. It's been more than two days since the catastrophic rock fall, and the rescue will already have been downgraded to a body recovery. Nobody thinks they're still alive down here. Todd's eyes snap open. He's been drifting in and out of consciousness in a kind of twilight zone between sleeping and waking. But he knows that sound, an unmistakable hydraulic roar.

We could hear an underground loader working in the 925 level coming in taking dirt with every bucket getting closer and closer and closer to the machine that both Brant and I were on. A few moments later the basket jerks forward. Todt and Brant sit bolt upright. The vehicle must have just collided with their teleloader, shaking the arm and their basket. Their colleagues are so tantalisingly close. We used the tools that we had, whether it was a hammer or a shifter or a rock or whatever, we bashed on the steel cage to try and notify the people that were on that machine that

were alive, to try and let them hear us somehow. They pound the railings, metallic reverberations echoing around the basket. They just need to make themselves heard, to let their colleagues know they're alive. After a while, the vehicle goes quiet. There's a tense pause. And then… It's the sound Todd and Brandt have been waiting for. The blast of the horn to notify the trapped miners that they've been heard, that help is on its way. To lay there and hear a horn beep, you know, we look at each other and think, hey, we've just been found. Todd and Brant pump their fists and slap each other on the back overcome with relief

brant offers a celebratory cigarette and todd even though he's been trying to quit accepts they puff away happily laughing and chatting about the first thing they'll do on the outside but as thursday flows into fr, their good mood falters. Something's wrong. Why is nothing happening? Gradually, the truth dawns on them. The horn blast from the vehicle wasn't to signify to Todd and Brant they'd been heard. It was for another reason.

When the horn sounded, it was to notify people in the area that it was starting up to leave Here we are again the emotional rollercoaster of thinking we've been found alive only to find out that we weren't found alive at all It's Friday morning Todd listens to the distant sounds of machinery. It proves people are still looking for him and Brandt, even if the search is just for their bodies. The whining drills and rumbling boggers now provide a constant soundtrack to their imprisonment,

along with the endless drip, drip, drip of leaking water. Then suddenly, a different sound rips through the mine. I remember laying there in the pitch black darkness with Grant, some 30 metres from where we lay. They started using high energy explosives. They started drilling and blasting their way to where they believed both Grant and I were. The walls ripple. Dust showers down from cracks in the ceiling. Swearing through gritted teeth, Todd and Brant cover their heads and squeeze their knees into their chests, bracing themselves for the next blast.

Each time they blasted, the fractures in the rock opened up more and more. And after the third blast, it was just like standing under a showerhead. We had that much water coming in on us, so it was a complete disaster because now we're suffering from near hypothermia. Brant writhes around in distress, teetering on the verge of hysteria. Todd tries to calm him down, but Brant is near beside himself, certain that the next explosion is going to bring the ceiling down on top of them with little else he can do todd glances at his watch

takes a pen out of his pocket and hikes up the left trouser leg of his overalls i had nothing to write on so on my left leg i started recording times and dates of the drilling and blasting so that if anything they did on the outside cured both Brant and myself, that when our bodies were recovered there was evidence to prove that we were alive at that particular point in time and what they did on the outside killed us. Todd scribbles away. Soon his leg is covered in scrawled markings.

Eventually the explosions stop. The ceiling hasn't caved in. It's another desperately close call. Solemnly, Todd hands Brunt the pen. They take it in turns to write private messages of farewell to their families. Then on my writing, I set about writing goodbye letters, and I write goodbye letters to every individual in my family. Now, that is the hardest thing that I've ever had to do in my life.

What do you put into words to people that mean the world to you that you may never see again? You know, it's just so hard. It's just probably the hardest thing that I've ever done in my life. It's Sunday afternoon, five days since the rockfall. Todd and Brant lie silently in the dark. Their nerves are fried following further blasting and drilling yesterday as their rescuers come tormentors continue the search.

The explosions are getting closer, more violent. Knowing they need to keep up morale, the two miners have attempted to restart conversation. To no avail. Even their musical tastes differ. Todd is a country and western fan, while Brant listens almost exclusively to rock music. But in the wake of the sixth and loudest explosion, Todd is becoming desperate. Surely Brant must know some Kenny Rogers. He actually does. He knows the singer's most famous song, The Gambler. And so, semi-hysterical, the pair launch into a unique rendition. Soon, they're belting out the chorus and slapping their knees, singing at the top of their lungs. But then suddenly, Todd grabs Brunt's arm.

He's heard something. We were singing with Kenny Rogers, The Gambler, the past time, and. He's heard something. We were singing Kenny Rogers' The Gambler the past time and I thought I heard voices. And I said to Brant, shut up, you know. And then I yelled out and to our surprise, voices come back. We finally made communication with the outside world. So that was pretty surreal. The incredulous voices ask, Todd, Brant, are you there?

The trapped miners scream back in response, communicating that yes, they're alive. They're not injured. They have water, but no food. Todd's voice is soon croaky from yelling, but he is giddy with joy. They've been found. The men on the other side of the rockfall reassure them that help is coming.

Soon after, Todd inquires about Larry. He was sitting in the cab of the teleloader when the tunnel collapsed. Did he make it out? A devastating answer comes back. No, Larry's body was recovered from the rubble several days ago. You can imagine the emotional rollercoaster, the highs of the highs of being found alive and then finding out that our good friend Larry had passed away. So it's probably the lowest of lows throughout the whole course of that rescue is knowing that, you know, our mate isn't going home to his loved ones.

Right now though, Todd and Brant must stay focused on their own survival, which is still far from guaranteed. Having located them, the process of actually reaching the two trapped miners will be monumentally difficult. The work not of hours, but of further days. The first step is to supply them with basic survival essentials. To do so, the rescue team drills a narrow hole through to them and feeds a plastic pipe along it. And that there became our link line to the outside world.

Everything that we received in the way of food, water, medication, fresh clothing, you know, whether it was letters written from home, from loved ones, or we were writing letters back. Above ground, it's action stations. It's clear by now that using explosives to get through to the miners is too dangerous. Todd and Brant are trapped behind a rock wall almost 16 meters thick. In order to carve a tunnel wide enough to extract them, it's decided that a special type

of drilling apparatus is needed, a massively powerful machine called a Raze-Bore. But there's a snag. So what they did, they cut with the scenario that I'm gonna bring in a raise ball machine now a raise ball machine in underground mining is designed to walk vertically you know not horizontally and it's never been done in the world before the machine isn't designed for lateral drilling plus beaconsfield mine doesn't have a raised bore just lying around. They'll have to ship one over from the Australian mainland.

That'll take 24 hours at the very least. By now, the story of the two trapped miners has become national news, with practically rolling coverage on all the major networks. For such a high-profile incident, the rescue team are able to bring in the country's top experts to figure out the horizontal application of the Rays Bore. The question upon which Todd and Brad's lives now depend is will it work? It's Thursday, May 3, 2006, deep in the bowels of Beaconsfield Mine. It has taken four days for the rescue team to ship a raised bore over from the mainland and then to transfer the huge machine underground. From inside the basket that's been their home for the past nine days, Todd and Brant

listen to the drill rattling against the diamond-hard courts. Fifteen and a half meters of rock stands between them and the rescue team. Above, a kilometer of earth threatens to bury them at any second. Nobody knows if the drilling will cause another seismic event. To distract themselves, Todd and Brant read and re-read the letters their families have sent down to them, drawing strength from their messages of love and support. One of the things that I requested when I was underground was that photo of myself and Carol and the three kids. And I took that and I stuck it on a rock some 300mm above my head so that when I got down I looked at it. And I looked at that photo

a thousand times a day and thought that's what i'm fighting for the drilling continues all day friday into saturday the rays bore chewing methodically through the rock todd and brant have been supplied with a video camera to transmit a live stream back to the control room. Up there, on a TV screen, rescue personnel watch the two trapped miners hunched and compressed into the tiny space. Any moment, they could witness their horrific final moments. But eventually, the Razeboar reaches its target location directly below the basket. Now there's less than two metres separating the rescue team from Todd and Brant. The final stage of the plan is to use pneumatic jackhammers to chip away the final few feet of rock.

But once again, there is a problem. But what they found is when they went in with the jackhammers that the rock was that hard, like a normal house slab that you build your house on is around 25 to 30 MPa. This rock that they were trying to break with jackhammers was well over 300 MPa. So it was one of the hardest rocks that they'd do it in underground mining. The rescue team scratch their heads. It's like trying to break through granite with a toothpick.

A new plan is needed. heads. It's like trying to break through granite with a toothpick. A new plan is needed. In the early hours of Sunday morning, Todd receives a call on the radio telephone. It's an explosives expert named Darren Flanagan. He explains that the only way to penetrate the final two meters of rock is by blasting through with low-grade explosive cartridges. Todd listens gravely. More explosions are the last thing he wants,

but it might be the only way. So I hung up the telephone and set about talking to Brant and explaining to him, and he was adamant that it wasn't going to happen because of what we'd experienced. So I said, Brant, we have to put our lives in their hands. I said, you know, we've potentially got to trust these men to bring us home safely, otherwise we're not going home. Eventually, Brant relents and Todd gives Darren the go-ahead. He and Brant put on their hard hats, safety glasses and earplugs.

Then Todd provides Darren with a countdown. Three, two, one. Todd removes his earplugs. Was that it? And it just went boom. And it was no louder than that. You know, there was a few choice words that were said back to Darren, and, you know, I've got a shotgun at home that's got more warmth than that.

But even now, they're not there yet. Over the course of the next 29 hours, the painstaking process continues. As the rescuers inch closer to the basket, Todd and Brant feel the explosions more vigorously. Dust dribbles from the ceiling. Larger stones spit from between the cracks. What if it all falls apart in the final few seconds? Eventually, the rescuers manage to blast to within just 30 centimeters of the basket. They are practically within touching distance, but they can't rush this final, delicate step.

Narrow probes are gently chiseled into the rock, until, finally, they break through. Todd clears away the gravel from the floor outside the basket, brushing aside dirt and debris, eventually revealing a beer mat-sized hole with a pair of eyes staring up at him. Contact. A few hours later, the hole is sufficiently enlarged for the miners to be brought out. It's decided that Brant will go first. I can tell you that the next six, seven, eight minutes, or whatever it may have been, I spent alone inside that basket. It was probably the longest six, seven, eight minutes

of the whole entire 321 hours. You know, we just endured this 14 days of hell. Brant's now going home to his loved ones. It all turns pear-shaped now. I don't get to see mine, so... Todd breathes deeply and waits. After an agonising eight minutes, he hears the voice of rescue coordinator Pat Ball. I remember laying there and then all of a sudden I heard a voice over my right shoulder

and it was Pat Ball and he said, it's your turn now, big fella. Todd gathers up his letters and photographs. Before he leaves, he pauses just for a moment to take one final look around the basket. And then, fourteen days after becoming trapped, he lowers himself down into the hole and straight onto an awaiting stretcher. Todd and Brant are taken to the crib room, where makeshift showers have been set up. They wash the grime from their filthy, aching bodies. Then, clean and dressed in fresh overalls, they ride the cage up to the surface, where their families are waiting.

To walk back out of there and just walk straight, you know, pretty much to the arms of our loved ones was just something that, you know, i've never been able to explain that feeling and it's one of the questions that's most commonly asked what was that feeling like to be back in your arms your loved ones you know for 18 years i've tried to explain that feeling and i haven't been able to do it but it's something that i'm going to have with me for the rest of my life. Following their return to the surface, Todd and Brant are taken to hospital for an assessment. After only a few days, they check themselves out so they can attend the funeral of their friend and colleague, Larry.

We came out and were able to attend that and to sit there and see his widow sitting five metres from me with his two kids. The youngest one of them was six months old and he's going to grow up not knowing what a champion Blakey's father really was. So hopefully one day I can have the opportunity and sit down with that young fellow and just tell him exactly what a champion Blake player his father was. In the years since the Beaconsfield mine disaster, neither Todd nor Brant have been able to fully shake the demons of those 14 days trapped underground. For Todd, the experience has left deep, permanent scars.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression, severe PTSD, which then, you know, I was unable to work anymore. So, you know, I'm on a pension now because my body has finally taken its toll. I've been through times where Caroline and the kids wanted to leave because of the person I'd become because I hadn't seeked help where I should have. You know, it was a reality check. So I started seeing psychologists and stuff like that and getting myself back on track. You know, at the end of the day, Beaconsfield was a big,

well, it was a contributing factor to a marriage separation. All these years later, Todd is still working hard to reconnect with his children after doing and saying things he regrets i love my children with all my heart they're the best part of me you know they keep me going but the unfortunate thing is things were said things were done which can't be taken back and you know i'm trying my best every day to be the best. You know, I wasn't the best father leading into 2006. I was not the best father post-2006.

But I'm, you know, I'm trying my best to be the best version of a father that I can be now to my children. Todd quit working in the mine immediately after his rescue. He has subsequently gone into motivational speaking, sharing his tale of resilience and fortitude. But if you were to impart just one lesson from his experience, it's that no matter how tough you think you are, the strongest act of all can be admitting you need help.

That's just me, how I'm structured. I don't like to be seen as weak, but I can tell you that there is a soft side to me where I do struggle. And, you know, one thing I'll say, it doesn't make you any less of a man and it doesn't make you any less of a man and it doesn't make you any less of a woman to actually speak up and go and seek the help that you need because there are professionals out there that are trained to help you get back on track. Todd and Brant have drifted apart over the years.

Though to this day, Brant is the only person with whom Todd will share what he wrote to his family while they were trapped underground together. Some things remain sacred. The media frenzy following the rescue was difficult for Todd, who never felt comfortable being branded as a hero by the press. He wants to shine the light on his rescuers instead, and simply counts himself a very fortunate man. To me, I'm not a hero. There was 220 people who were involved in my rescue.

As far as I'm concerned, they are the true heroes. They reunited me with my family as a sacrifice to them and their families if anything had gone wrong. So to me, they are the true heroes. I am a survivor, a very lucky survivor. Next time on Real Survival Stories We soar across the majestic heights of the Himalayas, following two men who risk their lives to save others. As elite mountain rescuers, Richard Lehner and Daniel Oftenblaten are used to making split-second decisions under extreme pressure. But in April 2010, one rescue mission seems to defy even their experience and training. They must save a group of climbers marooned at an impossible height, deep in the Annapurna range.

With time running out, the pair must employ an audacious rescue technique, dangling Richard on the end of a 90-foot rope, hanging beneath a helicopter flying at 23,000 feet. How do you pull off a rescue when your helicopter can barely stay airborne? And how do you save lives when your own hangs in the balance? That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen today without waiting a week by subscribing to Noisa+.