My Dad entered the deep veined coal mine at the age of 14. He would tell about the mules in the mine that pulled the coal cars. They were never brought to the surface and eventually went blind. This mine around Fort Branch closed and dad went to work at the Kings Station mine near Princeton. He worked there until he retired.

On two different occasions he was involved in accidents. One was in 1948 when I was in high school. As I arrived home Mom came running out telling me there had been an explosion in the mine and that’s all she knew. I ran out in the middle of the highway and flagged down a truck. He took me to the mine entrances road and let me out. I ran to the mine which was about a quarter of a mile. People were gathered around waiting for news. My uncle Ralph, Dad’s brother, spotted me and told me that Dad was ok and was in the mine helping to bring up the wounded. Apparently, Dad had just left the area of the explosion and was on his way up after his shift. He and the others on the elevator went back down, hoping to rescue the others.

Two wounded were rushed to the hospital but later died of their injuries. Then they started bringing up the dead in body bags. Eleven bags with tags. They called out the names as they came up. There were cries and tears. Thirteen in all died in the mine that day. (A total of 66 miners died in the Kings Station mine from 1927 and before it closed in the 1970’s.)

Shortly afterwards Dad came up. He was totally black. He was hard to recognize since I had never seen him covered with coal dust. Dad had always come home spick and span. He showered at the mine and changed clothes before coming home.

The cause of the blast apparently was from a buildup of gas in a closed off area that was to be repaired. A spark from an engine could have set it off. Dad had just left minutes earlier. .

A few years later a cave-in caught Dad’s hand and he lost parts of his fingers on his right hand. He never discussed what he did in the mine but Mom told me he ran the cutting machine which actually cut the coal from the vein. I was in the Air Force this time and got emergency leave to go home. His injuries never stopped Dad from working in the mine until he retired. He lived to be 94 in spite of having black lung disease. Also keep in mind he came home after work and farmed our 40-acre farm with a team of horses and milked the cows all before dark. He spent the last few years in a nursing home and died at age of 94.

Don Hill is a resident of Seymour and a longtime volunteer for Southern Indiana Center for the Arts. Send comments to [email protected].