A Chilean miner's story: 'Waiting for death'

SAN JOSE MINE, Chile - When the world came crashing down, Richard Villarroel thought he would be entombed forever, with little chance that rescuers would ever reach him in a dark chamber 2,050 feet under the Atacama Desert.

"We were waiting for death," said Villarroel, 26, who had lied to his mother about the work he had landed in this century-old mine. "We were wasting away. We were so skinny. I lost 26 pounds. I was afraid of not meeting my baby, who is on the way. That was what I was most waiting for."

In an extensive interview with The Washington Post, Villarroel described the anguish among the 33 trapped men after the Aug. 5 collapse sealed all exits out of the craggy cavity where they had gathered to prepare for lunch.

It would take two weeks for a borehole to reach them and another eight before they would see sunlight.

Villarroel was the 28th miner lifted from the depths in a 22-hour rescue operation Wednesday that extricated all of the miners and captivated a global television audience. His account of life inside the mine came before "Los 33," as they are now immortalized, were examined in a hospital in Copiapo, a small, dusty city that became the epicenter of joyous celebrations.

Luis Urzua, 54, the foreman and a natural leader who was the last man rescued, said the large chamber where the men were trapped became a "democracy." "Everything was voted on," he said. "We were 33 men, so 16 plus one was a majority." But Villarroel spoke of the intense fear and despair before rescuers made contact.

Some of the men were so sure death was near that they simply climbed into cots in the cavern and would not get up. He described being overwhelmed with the dread of never again seeing his doting mother, Antonia Godoy, or meeting the boy his pregnant wife is carrying.

Despite the odds, Villarroel said the group tried to focus on finding ways to endure, thanks to stoic leaders such as the foreman, Urzua. He is credited with ensuring that the rations the men had - just 48 hours' worth - lasted many more days.

The men split into groups, each with a special task. Villarroel was in charge of maintaining the electrical system.

Seventeen days after the collapse, a drill bit chewed a narrow hole from the surface all the way to the roof of the mine.

It was 6:30 a.m., Villarroel said, and he was playing dominoes. He grabbed a wrench and began clanging on the bit, a message that told rescuers above that they'd reached the miners.