Carmichaels man assisted in Quecreek rescue
By now, many people are familiar with the role Fairchance’s Joe Sbaffoni played in the rescue of the trapped miners at the Quecreek mine in Somerset County this summer. The bituminous mine safety chief with the state’s Bureau of Deep Mine Safety, Sbaffoni served as a technical adviser to Gov. Mark Schweiker, who often called him before the cameras to explain what was going on in the rescue attempt.
His calm manner in explaining the details of the rescue won him raves and honors far and wide.
And then there’s Mark Skiles.
Not so many may know the role that the 50-year-old Carmichaels man, as director of technical support for the Mine Safety and Health Administration, played in helping to conduct the rescue effort.
A third generation coal miner, Skiles started his mining career at the Robena Mine.
He later was hired at the Cumberland Mine, where he worked his way up to general superintendent, a post he held from 1984 to 1988.
He worked a number of jobs after that, including general superintendent of the Marrowbone Mine in southern West Virginia and safety director for the Zeigler Coal Co.
He was named to his current post three years ago, and he supervises a staff of 220 that provides technical support to mine inspectors and coal operators, certifies mining equipment and runs the administration’s mine emergency operations.
Skiles said he can usually tell how serious a mining accident is by what they ask him to send to the site. When he heard about the Quecreek mine accident that Wednesday night, officials asked him for “everything you’ve got.”
Contacts from his experience in the mining industry helped him get the specific equipment needed for the rescue, said Skiles, and everyone contacted agreed to help without hesitation.
Once Skiles sent the necessary equipment to Quecreek, he had to go there himself, because “I knew I could help.” He believed that his contacts in the mining industry would allow him to be helpful at the site, and being from the area made him familiar with the culture of the region.
He said he knew many of the people involved in the rescue: “Half the people on the site were my people.”
Not knowing if the miners were even alive made the situation even more difficult for the rescue workers, said Skiles, so hearing the trapped miners bang on a pipe hours after the accident was a high point for the rescuers.
Another anxious moment in the rescue operation came when a 30-inch drill bit crews were using to free the miners broke, and the rescuers had to decide whether to use a smaller 26-inch bit or wait for a new drill bit. The concern was that the 22-inch rescue capsule might catch on the lip formed from the switch in drill bit sizes halfway through the drilling.
Although everyone involved in the rescue was very concerned about the safety of the trapped miners, Skiles said that in his line of work, “you can’t get too emotional, because you have to keep your head.”
Despite the grim-looking situation, the people involved in the rescue operation were “very cooperative with each other,” said Skiles.
“There was extreme stress,” he said, adding that many of the rescuers went for days without much sleep or food. Despite this, “we were absolutely calm. There was not one argument,” he said.
Skiles said everyone was primarily concerned about getting the miners out safely, and that was more important to everyone than who was in charge of the operation.
While MSHA was officially in charge of the operation, Skiles said everyone worked together, and decisions were made by consensus.
“If there’s one thing to be learned it’s what people can do when they work together,” he said.