Milford Mine Disastser

History, with an unfiltered version, is terrifying.  

A few years ago, I visited a gorgeous memorial park created as a tribute to the miners who experienced the worst disaster up to that point in history.

You can read about the Milford Mine Disaster in Berger Aulie’s book The Milford Mine Disaster; A Cuyuna Range Tragedy.  

My respect and sympathy go out to these exceptional people who risked it all to create for themselves and their children a brighter future.  

Through experiencing this tragedy, their sense of love for one another and community grew tremendously and exists yet today.  

These fine mining communities weren’t the only ones building a better future through community.

Early surveying communities, ranches, riverboat commerce, those affiliated with expanding railroads, as well as New Ulm’s 1871 authentic Harkin Store, were all connected through strong community dynamics.   

I wanted to honor the people and communities through my writing.

This flash fiction piece is loosely based on all the communities I mentioned about, but mainly story elements come from my imagination.

All names are also fictious.  
 
Please enjoy this flash fiction around your next campfire. 

Ringing 

Like a hot-dip galvanizing, Gerhardt dove easier into the mine depths during the sweetest of summer months, also known as the sweatiest months.

Oppressive heat sent day shift workers through snaked intestines of earth restrained by hewn timbers.

This pickling process, heating the impurities out of miners, didn’t end when seasons changed.  

“Tell me why this makes sense?” said Gerhardt, shivering as he wished for the return of those summer months.  

“Each time you do it, your confidence grows, Gerhardt,” Wilhelm said.

“Don’t you think Mama and Papa are pleased knowing you are a good worker and already a man?

“Don’t you think they like what we send in our letters each month?” 

Wilhelm dared to dream bigger than his circumstances, so he left his topsoil stripped farm in a different part of the state and talked his twelve-year old brother Gerhardt into joining him. 

With their combined living arrangements, they could cut their costs in half and double what they were able to send home.

This money kept their family farm from going into tax forfeiture.

With baited anticipation their parents waited for their letters and felt comforted by the lies of an easy life. 

“You only need to ring this bell if it’s an emergency,” said Wilhelm.

“Your work is important, so you mustn’t leave.” 

Gerhardt crossed his arms and frowned. 

“Why can’t I go with you like always?” said Gerhardt. 

“Every mine needs a bellringer, and today, that’s you,” Wilhelm said using the authority given him by right of his two-year seniority.  

Responsibilities went with the job, and Gerhardt snatched the rope away from his brother and promised not to let go. 

“I mean it, Gerhardt,” said Wilhelm. “Remember your promise.” 

This rope, rather lightweight when considering how many souls depended upon it for their lives, connected to a large bell held on scaffolded supports above ground.

Miners were taught that as soon as one heard the bell ringing, they needed to exit the mine as quickly as they could. 

Gerhardt straightened his clothes and stood up straight as if at attention.

Keeping his promise, he stood there for hours without a break.

He could hear the timber posts, beams, and lagging groaning in misery. 

“Ring it!

“Ring the bell!

“The whole damn lake is caving in through the roof!

“Come with me.” 

“If I go, who will ring the bell?” said Gerhardt.

Gerhardt rang the bell as fast as he could.

Screaming to the men to get out.

He ignored the few men who implored him to leave when he still could. 

“Where are the others?” said Gerhardt to a man running up the ladder. 

“They’re trying to patch the roof,” the man said while keeping his pace.

“Fools!

“Come with me.” 

“I need to stay,” Gerhardt said, still praying to see Wilhelm running through the tunnel. 

When Gerhardt heard a thunderous roar, he knew the end was near.

He thought of his lovely parents, his family, and he prayed as he tied the rope securely around his chest.  

I have a family, too, he thought, feeling the currents pull and toss his body away from the spot Wilhelm said he shouldn’t leave. 

Help assembled above ground, and all thought it was yet possible to save the miners below because they still heard the bell ringing.  

Not until months later did they understand why the bell continued to ring, well after water spouted from the open shaft. 

Today the bell still stands and sometimes rings.  

Local lore says if you need directional help in your life, you ask your question aloud standing directly above where Gerhardt stood.

If the bell rings, consider yourself warned.