Real Survival Stories - Crushed by Corn: Trapped in a Grain Bin

Episode Date: March 26, 2026

A young Iowa farmer ends up in a bizarre and terrifying scenario. When Arick Baker climbs inside a giant storage container full of hundreds of tons of corn, it seems all in a day’s work. But a rapid-fire series of events will see him sink into the mountain of grain, swallowed whole like he’s falling through quicksand. Subsumed and crushed, he is buried alive, barely able to breathe… and heading towards the rotating blades of the container’s machinery… A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins. Written by Heléna Lewis | Produced by Ed Baranski | Assistant Producer: Luke Lonergan | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink | Sound design by Matt Peaty | Assembly edit by Rob Plummer, Carla Flores | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Ralph Tittley. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or 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

It's late morning on June the 26th, 2013, a scorchingly hot day in Hardin County, North Central Iowa. The atmosphere is heavy and humid, the gathering heat trapped beneath a wide, unbroken blue sky. The fierce sun bakes the empty asphalt roads, and the air shimmers over the patchwork of fields that make up this pocket of America's Midwest. Dotted across the landscape are indications of the areas thriving. agricultural output. Family farms own for generations stretch out over the fields. Here and there you'll find cattle barns, heavy-duty machinery and crop storage facilities. Among the largest of these are grain bins. Enormous silo-like containers. Inside these vast steel structures, thousands of bushels worth of harvested grain are kept, lying undisturbed for months at a time.

But within one such container, a few pieces of corn slide down a slight U-shaped dip in the middle of a mountain of grain. At first glance, there appears to be no reason for the disturbance. Silo is dark and deathly quiet, seemingly devoid of human life. But a closer look into the gloom reveals something else. There, within the U-shaped trough in the center of the grain bin, the fingertips of a leather glove are just visible. jutting out from a sea of golden corn. Suddenly they move, grasping at the air.

Then a muffled cry comes from somewhere beneath. Several feet below the surface, crushed within around 1.3 million pounds of corn. Eric Baker is slowly suffocating. My head's covered. I mean, it's pure dark. And the first minute, at least, was pure panic on my part. Entombed in the grain, the 23-year-old farmer thrashes and screams, clawing desperately

at the kernels as he tries to wriggle free. But it's no use. Nobody can hear Arak's calls for help, and his frantic movements are only making things worse. I noticed that the more I kicked and screamed, the harder and tighter I was getting squeezed by the corn. With tremendous effort, Aric swallows down his panic and tries to slow his hammering heart. His own breaths sounding absurdly loud inside the ventilation mask he wears. The mask has brought him some time,

but it's only got a short battery life and it doesn't create oxygen. At some point soon he's going to suffocate. It dawned on me that I was not going to know if I died or not. I was just going to fall asleep and I would never wake up. 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 Eric Baker. In June 2013, the 23-year-old has recently started working full-time on his father's farm in Iowa. As the youngest and fittest employee, Eric is left with some of the most unpleasant and physically demanding tasks, including entering the corn bins to deal with any blockages in the grain flow. But one false move quickly causes a disaster. The reason I look down is because I'm feeling the cold grain crawl up my sides of my body as I'm falling in,

and I mean, this has happened very, very quickly. Subcumed within seconds beneath hundreds of tons of corn, each breath becomes an effort, and each minute turns into a battle for survival. How can he have any hope of escape when every movement crushes him further? I started going in and out of consciousness around that point. I'm guessing from lack of oxygen and the heat. I'm not a religious person, but multiple times while I was submerged, I begged God to let me die.

I'm John Hopkins. From the Noiser Podcast Network, this is real survival stories. It's early morning on Wednesday, June the 26th, 2013. A dusty pickup truck. crunches along the surface of a wide straight road in north-central Iowa, deep in America's Midwest. Acres of sprawling fields stretch out either side of the highway, a mosaic of green, brown, and gold. Iowa grows more corn than any other state in the country, producing somewhere around 2.5 billion bushels every year. Inside the truck, Eric Baker rolls his aching neck from side to side, preparing

himself for another long, hard day of labour. He turns onto a gravel track towards a number of large steel grain bins glinting in the morning sun. He pulls up outside the containers and kills the engine before stepping out of the truck. Although it's still early, the air is already warm and the temperature promises to climb steadily throughout the day. Eric wears canvas shorts and a cut-off t-shirt, ready to deal with the worst of the heat. He makes his way towards the giant grain bins and greets his father Rick and a fellow farmhand Kay. Since the start of the week, the three men have been moving grain from one of the bins to another storage facility 45 minutes away. It's now about half empty, but the men still have a significant amount of work left to do.

I mean, we're a whole farming operation. We have trucks, sprayers, combines, planners. I mean, we do 100% of the farming. So we're hauling grain that was stored in a grain bin. and taking it to town within a truck. However, things haven't run entirely smoothly. Due to heavy rain during the previous year's harvest, the grain is wetter than usual,

and some of the corn has clumped together inside the bin. For the past couple of days, these chunks of moldy crops have posed a challenge when emptying the container, getting clogged in the drainage system and stopping the grain flow. As the youngest and the fittest, it has fallen to Aric to deal with the issue.

when it arises. My job that week was to go up on the inside of the grain bin, so you know you climb up the ladder and down the inside and with a 15-foot PVC pipe, stand in the very center and try to poke and break up that moldy corn blocking our sump to get more corn out of the grain bank. The three men worked through the morning to load the first of two trucks with grain. When it's full, Kay slips into the driver's seat and sets off for the storage facility. Eric and his father turned their attention to the second truck. But it isn't long before the grain flow stalls once more.

Sighing, Eric heads for the 72 steps that wind around the exterior of the enormous steel container. As he makes his way up, he puts on a battery-powered ventilation mask to help him breathe inside the dusty corn bin. He and his father picked the mask up by chance at a farmer's show the previous winter, thinking it might be a come in handy. It's not anything special. It's actually a mask made for carpentry work. It's like a full poly face mask with a cloth strap that goes under your chin, and then it's battery powered and just filters air.

At the top of the stairs, Eric opens the hatch in the roof of the grain bin and climbs inside, having to ignore the large sign warning people not to enter the container if it's running. He secures a thick rope to the top of an inner ladder and loops the other end around his right shoulder. Entering a grain bin is always a dangerous task, particularly if the corn is moving underfoot, and the rope should provide him with something solid to hold onto him, even if it isn't exactly state-of-the-art safety equipment. Giving the rope a tug to check its secure, Aric descends the inner ladder into the dim, stifling depths of the enormous grain bin.

With a diameter of 48 feet, the container can hold up to 60,000 bushels of corn. That's the equivalent of about 1,500 metric tons. He climbs off the ladder, his boots sinking into the golden mountain of corn. The kernels shift underfoot as they are churned by the auger, a rotating corkscrew-like device at the base of the bin, which moves grain out of the container and into the waiting trucks. The vibrations of the auger tingled through Eric's feet and up his legs as he begins to jab a long PVC pole into the corn, trying to break up any moldy clumps. For Eric, this is still all fairly new.

Although he grew up on the family farm, he never took much interest in the work, and his father never forced the lifestyle upon him or his siblings. One thing my dad tried very hard to do was teach us to find passion. You know, do what you love is really the only way life works. So with that in mind, he never, ever pushed farming on any of us, on any of the children. Eric grew up in a small rural community where he still lives. Here, everybody knows each other. Families have lived and worked in this area for generations, and few people arrive or leave. We're really kind of in the middle of nowhere here.

very small, tight-knit farm community. Small town school, I think I graduated with like 45 or something like that in my grade. And it's goofy because out of those 45 kids, probably 35 of them, we've known each other since we were in diapers together. Back then, Eric didn't want to follow the same route as many of his classmates. He had ambitions to leave the small community where he was born and get a taste of life elsewhere. He enrolled in college and studied studying for a degree in biochemistry engineering.

Although he ultimately found the subject wasn't really for him, he did enjoy the social aspects of university. However, that all changed after Eric turned 21. One day his father, Rick, came to visit and take his son out for dinner. He had news. It was clear that, you know, I had no major goals in life. I was just riding the college wave, I guess, of five. and wasn't thinking much past bats.

And well, then Rick, boss man, came and took me out to eat dinner one night and said, well, Eric, there's no easy way to say this, but the money's getting shut off. You know, the tap's done. You can stay in college and get a job and put yourself through it. You know, that's what your mother did. We're done paying for you to have some. It was a wake-up call. Eric decided to drop out of college and get a factory job near his family home.

By night he worked at the factory, and by day he helped out on the farm. Though he had no previous agricultural experience, he quickly proved himself capable and found he actually enjoyed aspects of the work. His time at the factory, however, was less successful. I went and worked in the factory for a year and knew after about the first three minutes that was absolutely no future for me. Easily the worst days of my life, really. It just mind-numbingly boring.

So when, in spring 2013, Eric's father suggested he began working on the farm full time, he had little reason to refuse. The reason I came back and started farming is because my back was up firmly against a wall. And there really was no other option. It truthfully was, well, you know, I'll try it while I'm working this factory job. And then it was like, okay, well, This is definitely better than the factory job after a year.

So then went to do the farming full time and just kind of fell in love with it, I guess. It's a very unique way of life. The work is hard but rewarding, every day bringing a new task or challenge. And today is no exception. There are my gloves. Come on, heat. Winter is hard, but your groceries don't have to be. This winter, stay warm.

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Learn more at aboutamazon.ca. Back inside the container, sweat prickles the nape of Eric's neck and runs down his back as he stabs the pole into the corn, breaking up the crusted clumps. With the sun beating down upon it, it's sweltering inside the metal structure. The temperature hovers just below 60 degrees Celsius. And Aric's discomfort is only increased by the weight of the 15-pound mask secured to his head. But he grits his teeth and powers on.

It shouldn't be much longer before the second truckload is full, and he can escape the sticky, stifling air of the dusty grain bin. By about 10.30 a.m., they're nearly there. Above Aric, there is a whistle, and he looks up. From the hatch at the top, he can see the face of his father looking down. He lets his son know that the second truck is almost full, and he's going to switch the auger off to stop the grain flow. Eric nods, and his dad's face disappears.

He can hear Rick's footsteps as he makes his way down the metal staircase on the outside of the bin. Relieved that he'll soon get a break from the sweltering furnace, Eric decides to give the corn one last prod with the pole before climbing out. And that's when everything changes. I poke it one more time and I actually broke a void. It wasn't like a chunk of moldy corn. It was actually a void underneath all that corn.

There was like a hole on top of that sump. So when I poked it that one time, I heurched that hole, that void, and then fell into the corn. The corn suddenly gives way beneath Eric's feet. and he is sucked downwards like he's being swallowed by quicksand. Unbeknownst to him, a thick shelf of rotten corn has formed a few feet above the bin's floor. As the container has emptied, the corn underneath it has drained out, leaving a large air pocket.

With that final jab into the grain, Eric has broken the very shelf that was supporting him. In a matter of seconds, everything in the grain bin is sucked into the air pocket. pocket by gravity and the pull of the auger. More corn collapses down into the newly created funnel, rushing like water to fill the space. Eric glances down, barely able to react to what is happening. The reason I look down is because I'm feeling the cold rain crawl up my sides of my body

as I'm falling in and I mean this has happened very, very quickly. He shouts for his father and tries to scramble out. But nobody can hear him and the corn already has his life. legs in an inescapable grip. Acting on instinct, Eric scrabbles blindly for the rope on his right shoulder and manages to grab it with his hand. The grain continues to rise around him as he is sucked down towards the floor of the bin, panic surging in his gut.

He tries to haul himself up using the rope, but the downward pull is too strong. He's only going one way. His head rapidly vanishes beneath the surface of the grain. The corn piles on top of him, adding to the weight as he is dragged down through the darkness. As he descends, an unmistakable vibration thrums through him. The auger is still running below, and Eric is being carried directly towards it. It was still running, so not only did I break that void, but then everything underneath it is moving getting pulled out of the grain bin.

So I was going down with it. Eric flails and jerks as he is sucked further into the depths of the grain bin, plunged into total, terrifying darkness. The weight of the corn presses in from all sides, squeezing and crushing him, his bones creaking in a lethal embrace. He screams out. But his cries are swallowed up by the grain and the steadily increasing roar of the auger at the bottom of the container. The vibrations from the machine intensify as he is pulled further towards it. He has just seconds until his body becomes entangled in its sharp metal blades. A jolt runs through his leg as his right foot suddenly collides with the top of the auger's gearbox.

He is mere inches from being pulverized. And then, all of a sudden, the noise stops. His father must have reached the auger's controls outside and switched it off. Not realizing that he has in the process, just saved his son's life. The only reason I stopped is because the grain bin got shut off. He finally made it down off the ladder and shut the grain bin off, so everything quit moving. The growl of the auger dies away, leaving nothing but the sound of Aric's own panicked breathing, and the rustle of the corn settling above him.

Outside, his father climbs into his truck and drives off, totally unaware of his son's horrific fate. In just a handful of seconds, Eric has been buried alive. It's black, because my head's covered. I mean, it's pure dark. And the first minute was pure panic on my part. He squirms and writhes, instinctively trying to fight his way free. But he's being squeezed so tightly he can barely move.

In fact, every movement makes things worse. Clostrophonial. And terror take hold. Just pure panic, refreshing, I mean kicking as much as possible. And then I don't know why, but I just got calm. While being calm, I was able to use my brain, because that's the problem with panicking. You can't think when you're panicking.

It's the opposite of being able to think. So after I was able to calm down, I started thinking. I noticed that the more I kicked and screamed, the harder and tighter I was getting squeezed by the corn. Eric takes a long, shuddering breath and forces his twitching limbs to keep still. But even breathing is an effort. The expansion of his chest and diaphragm push painfully against the grain, limiting the amount of air he can take into his lungs.

Not that there is much oxygen to be had in his current position. Thankfully, he is still wearing his bulky mask, the helmet and visor. providing him with a modicum of protection around his face. Just enough to stop him from being totally smothered by the grain, just enough to allow him to gasp in little bursts of oxygen. It isn't much, but it has brought him a bit more time. Without a doubt, without that being on, there's no way I would be alive. I mean, a hundred percent chance of death.

In his current position, with his right foot on the gearbox, and his left foot a step or two higher, Aric looks like a statue, a figure frozen in time. The rope is still looped around his right arm, which points out in front of him, while his left arm sticks straight up into the air. All that's visible of Aric are his gloved left fingertips,

just jutting out of the kernels. They're the only indication that he was ever in the grain bin. I focused on getting my work glove off, because it was hot. It was 135 degrees in that grain bend, so I was hot. And at the time, I thought, you know, if I could just get that glove off, I could have, like, a little vent sticking up out of the grain, and maybe I'd cool off a little bit.

With tiny, incremental movements, he tries to wriggle his left hand free of his glove. As he works, the pressure exerted across his body soon becomes intolerable. Anytime he tries to move, even a fraction of an inch, more corn kernels rush in and he ends up being squeezed even tighter than before with over 600 tons of grain pressing around him

the pain is nearly unbearable but strangely there is a measure of solace in the discomfort the pain became a good thing because it dawned on me that I was not going to know if I died or not I was just going to fall asleep and I would never wake up and that is what that was going to be

and after I had that thought, that's when the pain became good. If I can feel pain, that means I'm alive. But for how much longer? Nobody knows what has happened to him. His father won't be back for another couple of hours. And worse still, at some point, K will return to the grain bin, ready to fill his truck up again. And he will likely turn the auger back on as soon as he parks up.

And if that happens, Eric doesn't stand a chance. The first driver coming back, that was in my mind. Just with where I was in that band, if that band would have been turned on at all, I would have been coming out that auger in chunks. But the brain is a fascinating, fascinating tool, and it does an incredible job of blocking out things that aren't helpful when your life's in danger. He waits, motionless and silent in the darkness.

The air grows thick and stale. The available oxygen diminishing with every breath he manages to suck in. The clock is ticking. In his pocket, Eric's phone vibrates with the occasional message, but he's incapable of reaching it. One of the texts is from a girl he's recently started speaking to. It reads, Did you die, mister?

Or are you just not talking with me today? But for now, Eric is unaware. He remains totally immobile, totally powerless. Time crawls by, and the mood becomes darker. I thought of a football coach I had in high school. He was huge into don't make excuses and took it a little too far. I thought about him quite a bit. At one point, I kind of remember sobbing, crying, laughing or whatever.

I wonder if he would think this is a decent enough excuse. Thought about death, truthfully. The realization that tomorrow's going to happen regardless if I'm there, pictured the funeral and pictured all my friends, and I would have been the first one in my small grade of 45 kids to die. Eric has no sense of time in the black, sweltering depths of the silo. Eventually his senses become muddied and confused. He's slipping away.

I started going in and out of consciousness. I'm guessing from lack of oxygen and the heat. The breathing was hard. I'm not a religious person, but multiple times while I was submerged, I begged God to let me die. I was tired of fighting it. And it was just one of those moments where it's like, okay, man, if you're there, come and get

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It's Wednesday, June the 26th, 2013, late morning. A battered semi-truck loaded with corn rolls smoothly down a highway in north central Iowa. Inside the air-conditioned cab, Rick Baker tries to phone his son, Eric. His nerves tighten as the call rings out. No answer. This isn't the first time Rick's tried to contact Eric since leaving him in the grain bin. At 10.32 a.m., I missed a call from Rick

saying, hey, like a jackass, I didn't wait to make sure you came out of the grain bin to see you're all right, so just give me a call when you get out of there. After leaving several unanswered voice. males, Rick's worry grows. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, considering the implications of his son's silence. Then he calls Kay, the other driver who's been helping haul the grain today, and asks him to check on Eric when he gets back to the corn bin. Around two hours after Eric was first submerged in the grain, Kay returns to the container with his empty truck.

Arick's own vehicle is still parked outside, but there's no sign of its driver. Frowning, Key heads for the container's external staircase, the clang of his footsteps, ringing out in the heavy, silent air. He peers down through the roof hatch and calls Eric's name. No reply. Squinting into the gloom, at first K can see nothing but the undisturbed surface of the corn.

But when he looks again, and looks closer. He spots the rope, plunging straight down into the grain. And there are Aric's left fingertips, stiff and motionless. Horrified, Kay grabs hold of the rope and pulls. There is a hint of resistance before the line goes slack as it slivers off Aric's arm and breaks the surface of the corn. It dangles limp and useless above the grain. Without the support of the rope, Arick sinks further into the core, his fingertips disappearing beneath the surface. When Kay pulled that rope up, I thought it was a snake for some reason. I was getting pretty loopy, apparently, but it just, oh my God, it's a snake.

Crawling through the cord. But once again, the brain blocking things out at no point did I think this means I'm completely hidden underneath this corn now. I didn't think of that at one time. Immediately realizing the severity of the situation, Kay and Rick contact the emergency services and a team of firefighters is dispatched. But one thing is made clear. The crew are most likely heading out for a recovery, not a rescue. When they arrived on site, they were there for a body recovery. There's no way I was alive, period.

Two of the firefighters scale the metal ladder, climbed through the hat. and lower themselves into the grain bin. They begin tramping across the corn, calling Eric's name, more in hope than expectation. And as they search, their movements are actually causing more harm. With every step, the grain shifts, burying Eric further beneath its crushing weight. In the stifling darkness, the young farmer is unconscious,

unaware that his potential rescuers stand just a few feet above his head. The two firefighters look at the two firefighters look at, at each other. Their faces taut and grim. There's no way he's still alive. But then something miraculous happens. And the firefighters

were standing directly above me and I heard one of their radios come on. I heard the click on it. And they said, well if that kid's in here, he must be dead because I don't hear him or see him. And luck as you have it, just as that happened, a firefighter on the

outside turned a giant fan on. Every ringband has it, but it's made to blow air up and that's how you get grain to store. We're talking like a 50 horsepower motor on a big fan, like big boy fan. And that cold air coming up, I think, is what woke me up to be able to hear them on the radio when they were standing above me. Arick opens his eyes. His sense is prickling as a rush of cold air blasts across him. He is back from the brink. Instantly, he begins yelling at the time. top of his lungs, using every scrap of his remaining strength to try to make himself heard through the layers of corn and the roar of the fan. Above, the incredulous firefighters drop to their

knees. They begin digging through the grain like dogs, following the faint sound of Arix's voice. By the time they find his outstretched left hand, they are elbow-deep in the corn. After we made contact and they realized I was alive, that's when everything switched. It went from a recovery to a rescue and they showed up in force. Emergency services are quickly mobilized from across the area. As news of the accident spreads through the small community, friends and neighbors also show up to see if they can assist. Soon, well over 100 people have amassed at the grain bin,

all willing to help in any way that they can. But even now, there's no guarantee Ayrrhic will survive. Extracting him from the container will be a common complex, lengthy and risky process. The firefighters work as fast as they can, digging frantically, but every time they manage to clear the corner way, more kernels fall into the newly created space. If this is going to work, they're going to need some specialized kit. Soon a grain rescue tube, or coffer dam, is brought in, a type of hollow cylinder made

from interlocking curved steel sections, which can be placed around a person to relieve the pressure of the grain. But with most of Aryk's body still submerged, it's difficult to work out exactly where to place the tube. At this point, it's only my left hand that's above the grain, and they're hollering down, you know, where are your feet at? And with my hand, I point down, where's your head at? I point back like that. So then they get this cofferdam in place and start pushing it down, trying to get it around me. While this is happening inside, Volunteers outside tried to create openings in the sides of the bin and siphon out as much of the corn as they can. They're cutting holes in the side of the bin on the outside.

That was a slow process at first because it was all manpower. I mean, shovels and people were using their fire helmets shoveling corn away, and we're talking thousands and thousands and thousands and thousands of bushels. Later, it will be estimated that parts of Aric's body are under £1,000 per square inch of pressure. the equivalent of being crushed by around 30 African elephants. Even with all the people that have showed up to help, it's still impossible to release him from the tightly packed grain. At one point, the firefighters are able to dig down fire enough inside the coffer dam to uncover Eric's head. He squints into the light and sees the faces of his

rescues. The relief of breathing cleaner, fresher air is palpable. But it doesn't last long. They found my face, and then after they uncovered my face for the first time, I'm still wearing the helmet. I was buried 15, 20 times after that. So, I mean, I get a little bit of daylight coming up from my mask, and then poof-blockness again. Survival is tantalizingly close, but remains far from certain. His odds are still not good. I think it was really because of the fact that I kept getting buried, that I just had no expectations, period.

It's easier to be in the moment when you're not expecting an outcome, and I was in survival mode. It's Daredevil. I'm right here. Don't miss the return of Marvel Television's Daredevil born again. So what's next? I'm going to take this city back. In an all-new season now streaming only on Disney Plus.

They're hunting us. It's time we started hunting them. This should be tons of fun. Marvel television's Daredevil, Born Again, now streaming only on Disney Plus. The firefighters continue to work, sweat glistening on their brows as the oppressive heat of the silo intensifies. But as strange sound causes them to pause, the grinding, groaning sound of bending metal. The weight of the corn on the coffer dam has become so great that it's buckling under the press. pressure. One of the firefighters bursts into action.

Tyler, that firefighter, he actually climbed in the coffer dam with me because the weld started to break on it and corn started coming in on it. And at this point, I mean, I'm still buried in corn, you know, maybe neck high, if not higher, with this coffer dam around me. And then corn starts coming in. I'm just sitting there. Now that's when Tyler crawled in the copper dam with me and put his knee against the broken well. and held it for two hours. Tora's rotator cuff. Never met him before in my life,

and that's what he did. Hours pass. Inch by inch, they are able to uncover more of Eric's body, though it's still not yet possible to move him. Outside, the chaos of so many people descending on the grain bin has forced a road closure. Among the vehicles that has been stopped

is a bulldozer. Unsurprisingly, in such a small community, It transpires that Aric's father knows the bulldozer's owner and manages to commandeer it to help extract his son from the grain. After that, things get easier. The bulldozer is quickly able to clear vast quantities of corn from the bin. Concurrently, a large vacuum is brought in to suck the grain out from below Aric, relieving the pressure on his feet and legs.

Finally, they seem to be getting somewhere. The first actual time I thought, I think I might live through this, is when that back was coming underneath my feet and I could feel all that pressure getting released on my feet, even though I'm still pressurized up here. My feet were getting released. That's when the blood started to work again. I didn't have as much adrenaline going through my veins, apparently, because things became much more painful very, very quickly. A final flurry of digging. A final almighty heave. And at around 3pm, five hours after he was first buried,

Aric is at last pulled free. He collapses on top of one of the firefighters. The two men fall to the ground, both too exhausted from the heat and the physical exertion to hold themselves upright. Aric is placed on a stretcher and carried out into the blinding daylight, much to the relief of his parents and friends. It was bright.

It was so bright, Because I'm laying on a stretcher head first. They take me out of the door, head first, then all of a sudden it's 3 o'clock in July, so full sunlight, I mean, eat at the day. With his ordeal finally over, what comes next is a blur of words and faces. Eric is airlifted to hospital, where they can begin the painful process of cleaning him up. He has corn embedded into every inch of his skin. Incredibly, he has survived with relatively moderate injuries.

The worst damage is to his right leg. My right leg was exposed into it the whole time I was in the bin, and I had horrible acid burns on the back of my leg from just the corn acid eating my skin. They didn't do anything about that the first day I was in the hospital. It was the second day that they came in to give me my bath. Holy cow. No kindness awards there, let me tell.

They were scrubbing and, oh my God, that was horrible. After two days recuperating in hospital, he's allowed to go home. On the way back, he stopped to see the corn bin that almost claimed his life. The thing that shocked me the most is there was like 18,000 bushels of grain on the ground that came out of the bin to get me out. It was completely cleaned up two days later. I mean, the holes were still on the side of the bin and everything, but all the grain that was on the ground was cleaned up.

It's almost like it didn't happen. Ariks' physical injuries heal fairly quickly, and he's soon back working on the farm. Surprisingly, he finds he isn't too badly affected by any lingering trauma from his experience. I can't say I was ever having trouble with it. You know, I've been in that same grain been 20 times since then.

It doesn't bother me. However, the accident did affect him in other ways. These days, he says he is much more aware of risks than he ever was before. Having experienced firsthand how complacency can have catastrophic consequences. I call it my spidey sense. Kind of like Spider-Man, you know, he always kind of tingles when something's about to get thrown at him or whatever. But it's more constant. Just a never-ending weighing risks versus rewards, I guess.

just stopping and taking a moment to think, you know, what is the worst-case scenario here? Eric's experience isn't as rare or unusual as you may think. Between 2014 and 2023, there were 315 similar farming accidents in the US alone, and more than half of those were fatal. A number of factors combined to mean that Eric did not join that list. From the tireless work of his rescuers to Eric's age and mental fortitude and even what he was wearing that day. Me being here today without it out, number one starts with the mask. I would have been found with about 2.1-ish pounds of corn in my body, and I would have suffocated

within the first 90 seconds without that out. They're guessing the entire time I was submerged, my heart rate was between 230 and 235 beats a minute. Age is one of the main reasons I was alive. The doctors then told me if I would have been five years younger, I would have been crushed by the pressure. If I would have been five years older, I would have had a heart attack. I was in decent enough shape to withstand the physical exertion that was on my body. At one point, I was in the grain bend and I decided that this isn't how I was going to die. Back in the day, there was a show, a thousand ways to die. Some of those were ridiculous, like, almost like, there's no way this is real. And I thought about that show a lot,

Just, you know, the kid dies in Graemeband after walking past the warning sign that says, do not enter, and I'm that stupid sum of a bitch that's in here dead. And I just refuse to be that person. After his own father died in 2019, Eric took over running the farm, where he now works and has a family of his own. Rather than regretting the harrowing experience, he focuses on what it taught him. Using those lessons to live in a thoughtful, considered way and make the most of what he has. I think everybody would be better off if they could be stuck in a grain bin for a couple hours.

Because it just puts everything into perspective. Farming is a high-stress job. Lots of money, lots of unknowns, lots of variables, just completely out of my control. But compared to being stuck in a grain bin, every day is a pretty easy day. And does anything actually matter? You know, I mean, if we get to go home safe at the end of the day, then okay.

What might be making me frustrated, making me angry, making me stressed, anxious, whatever it is right now. If I'm dead, all of those things don't matter anymore. So why do I let them bother me when I'm alive? Everything's better after you've stared death in the face for five hours and walked away from it. Next time on Real Survival Stories, we meet Jeff. Briden. In 2015, the 25-year-old is hiking the Villarica Traverse, a 32-mile three-day trek across some of Chile's most awe-inspiring scenery. The hike will take him within touching distance of several of the country's magnificent volcanoes. Despite their beauty, these peaks remain active

and potentially deadly. And when Jeff awakes on the final morning of his trek to find the world smothered by a dense haze of ash, he has to quickly scramble to evacuate the unstable area. But the eruption has eliminated all signs of the trail, and a twisting, terrifying journey ensues. Toxic fumes, zero visibility, and the threat of further eruptions all hang heavy in the air. That's next time on real survival stories. Listen right now without waiting and without ads by joining Noiser Plus.

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