The Southern

WEST FRANKFORT - It was the last shift before the Christmas break when 218 miners were lowered underground into Orient No. 2 Coal Mine on Dec. 21, 1951.

They were greeted with a chalkboard message reading "Merry Christmas to the Night Crew" before heading down into the dark corridors of what was, at the time, the largest shaft mine in the country.

Those miners joined approximately 39 others already below, totaling 257, several shy of the average 300 men who regularly worked the night shift.

At approximately 7:40 p.m., the mine rumbled and coal dust filled the air. Support beams began to buckle and a blast of heat and fire surged through the passageways igniting the coal along the walls.

On Jan. 1, 1952, the United Mine Workers Journal reported that men stationed farthest from what was later called the "Black Christmas" explosion had time to escape. Those near the point of the ignition were trapped in the collapsing walls of Orient 2.

The report indicated that many men who escaped to the surface returned underground to pull out the bodies of friends and co-workers.

After the explosion, an estimated 500 men and women were involved in the rescue and recovery mission, although far more were recovered than rescued.

Jack McReynolds, a West Frankfort resident and Department of Labor mining instructor, has more than 30 years invested in the coal mining business. He said he remembers 1951 when tragedy struck the small town.

"I was in high school. I went down there and everyone I knew was going down to the morgue because almost everybody in town had somebody related to them that was missing or killed," he said. "The faces of the people were all in despair. They waited to hear on the news about their husbands and loved ones that were still underground in the mine. Most of the people, especially experienced coal miners, knew there probably wasn't going to be any survivors."

There were 120 men trapped hundreds of feet below the ground in total darkness. The air was polluted with fumes and their bodies were bruised and aching from falling debris, heat, and a struggle to get air.

All of those men died - except for one.

Franklin County newspapers published after the explosion said only 28 bodies were recovered in the first 24 hours.

The Boneyard - an online history journal - explains how the bodies were taken to the junior high school, which had been converted into a temporary morgue.

Horrified and grief-stricken family and friends walked through the aisles of charred remains, attempting to identify anyone they recognized.

The bodies were shuttled from underground to the surface and from the surface to the school. Nearly 60 hours had passed when rescue workers found their Christmas miracle - Cecil Sanders.

"There was joy everywhere in town," McReynolds said. "Everyone said how they at least found someone alive. Everyone thought it was a miracle because where they found him there wasn't enough oxygen to burn a flame safety lamp. It takes more oxygen than that to let a man breathe."

An online history account attributed to Sanders said he explained how he and the men trapped with him put up canvas and brattices attempting to block the deadly gases. Sanders also was quoted saying he wrote his family a farewell letter stating, "May the good Lord bless you and keep you, dear wife and kids. Meet me in Heaven - Cecil Sanders."

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