One of my favorite stories to share.

On November 11, 1908 a triple explosion, followed by a series of smaller blasts, shook the Radbod coal mine in the Ruhr Valley, Germany. Working alone in the lowest seam, 3171 feet below ground was a 40-year old Polish mine-ganger, jan Goertal. Two hours previously, he had sent the rest of his 20 man shift by way of the cage in the main shaft to a higher gallery, 327 feet above, to clear a routine rock fall. When Goertal heard the first muffled rumble he was standing by the lift gates at the foot of the shaft, waiting for the cage to come down and carry him to his men.

Goertal was an experienced miner who had worked in the gold fields of South Africa as well as Poland, France and Germany. He knew instantly what has caused the ominous thunder and to avoid the blast he knew was inevitable he crouched by the gallery wall, bracing himself against the imminent shock waves. The first giant gust of burning air threw his head back against the rock, splitting open his scalp and shattering his miner’s lamp.

As was revealed at the enquiry, held at Essen a month later, the boom heard by Goertal had been the sound of the first massive explosion that had swept across the layered galleries of the 80 year old mine burning 100 men to death in the first few minutes. Another 90 died when poisonous gasses rolled along the  darkened passageways asphyxiating miners whose nostrils were already choked with dust.  And the tragedy did not stop there. As rescuers were lowered down the main shaft on the day after the explosions, pit props in the undamaged galleries splintered and broke, bringing down tons of rock and killing most of the remaining workers beneath them.  Only two coal bound tubes of life remained – one containing most of Goertal’s  shift , who may the enquiry decided, have inadvertently struck the fatal spark that started the explosions; and the other holding Goertals himself, alone in the pitch dark.

Later investigation showed that both  tunnels had been completely sealed; the top one, 2844 feet from the surface, by cave-ins at both ends, which left  a short stretch of tunnel undamaged but had entombed Goertal’s workers; and the other, 327 feet below,  in which the ganger lay near to the piles of rubble that had blocked the main lift shaft – the only exit in Goertal’s tunnel.

On the morning of the fourth day, dust and spray started erupting from a hole that appeared in the ground above the mine. When rescuers investigated, they found water, apparently coming from a reservoir deep under the ground, that had evidently been forced up at high pressure from the level of the topmost seam. When the water had subsided they clambered down the hole it had made and found themselves in the topmost gallery, still sealed at both ends save for an opening through which the water had gushed to flood the seam. All around floated the dead bodies of Goertal’s crew. In all 360 miners had now died in the disaster.

Three more days passed while conditions were made safe for further investigation. Then, a week after the first explosion, the rescue team found Goertal lying on a ledge with two broken legs and a torn scalp, but completely dry – 327 feet up from where he should have been.

Geologists told the enquiry that the shaft where he had been found was completely sealed off from the shaft where he had been left by his men before the explosion occurred. The only communication between them was by means of the lift shaft, and this had been  partially blocked by rubble. The water had not penetrated the lower level, so suggestions  that Goertal had been carried up by air and water pressure through mining bore holes were dismissed as hydraulically impossible. Besides, the force required to lift his body over 300 feet was calculated to be far more than would be needed to smash him to a pulp: “Many dead men, “ said a scientist, “were flattened and crushed by the water alone.”

When in the autumn of 1908, the main shaft of the pit was dug out, evidence was found to vindicate the geologists’ theories. The lower shaft, in which Goertal had originally been trapped, was bone dry – and still sealed by fallen rock and coal dust. No other possible exit hole was discovered.

Somehow, in a manner that defies science, the injured miner had been bodily transported, through stagnant water in which his dead comrades lay, to safety on a dry shelf in the top galley. Furthermore, he had existed for seven days, despite his weakening condition, without food or drinkable water.

Goertal never went down the pit again. Instead he and his 18 year old wife Lisa went to work as farmers on the Alsace border.  A staunch Roman Catholic, Goertal told the enquiry that prayer had sustained him. He reported how after the first blast blew him over he lost consciousness for a time, then came to in the darkness. When he explored his surroundings he found still water with an unbroken miner’s lamp floating in it. He managed to strike a light from pieces of dry stone and had lit the paraffin soaked wick. Then he thought of Lisa and prayed until rescuers arrived.

In answer to official demand for further explanations, Goertal, often repeated reply was, es muus Gott gewesen sien – It must have been God.”

Source: It must have been God from the Enigma File pgs. 1022-1023