Eventually I got a place in the team as a face-worker, coal hewing. We used all wood supports, roof bars, props and chocks. We advanced the face till it reached the boundary.

As there was not a face ready for the team to transfer on to we were all spare to the pit doing any job that was required. I had also trained as a coal cutter machine man and me and my marrow (work mate) were asked to go on the split shift. (Between days and noon’s) Our job was to complete any coal cutting ready for the noon shift coal producers. We were informed that there was fifty yards of the face left to be cut, so we made our way to the coalface.

There was an area of the face where water had accumulated to a depth of four inches, and, as the machine inched its way slowly along the three-foot thick coal seam, there was an ominous cracking sound as the wooden supports were smashed and the roof came crashing down on top of me.

My head was pushed into the water but I just managed to raise it sufficiently leaving the tip of my nose just touching.

I was in a kneeling position covered in rubble, gasping for breath and fearful of being drowned. If I did not get out quick, there would be a second fall of rock as now there was no support to the roof. Stan Morrison, who had been at the rear of the machine, began to move the rubble frantically but a big slab of rock was balanced on my back and the front of the machine.

I heard him groan as he tried to lift to move this. My right hand was trapped under another rock, then his grip slipped and my head was pushed under the water. Once again I was able to raise it sufficiently to get my nose clear.

Stan said it was too much for him so he would go for help. I yelled for him not to go, as it would be another hour before the noon shift got into the district and the roof might not stop up for that length of time.

I though I was going to die, leaving my wife Doreen, to bring up our two small children by herself. Stan tried once more. This time I snatched my right hand from under the rock Stan heaved on the rock, and from my kneeling position, I summoned all the strength I could and pushed the floor with my hands and knees. The rock slid to one side and I managed to struggle through the rest of the rubble.

My hand was very painful as the salt water seeped into the wounds, but I couldn’t care less as I crawled down the coalface into the main gate roadway. I had two broken fingers, a finger end hanging off, and needed 25 stitches in my hand but I was pleased to be alive.

I still have an impairment of grip, and a disfigured ring finger to remind me of this particular accident.

Submitted by John Lumsdon