The disaster at the Rolling Thunder Mine began like any other shift. Underground work always came with danger, but for men like Steven Lipscomb, risk was simply part of life. A 42-year-old foreman from Elkview, West Virginia, Steve had spent years putting others first — first as a Marine rifleman, then as a leader in the mining world. On November 8, that instinct became the final act of his life.
State officials said the shift was moving normally until an old internal wall unexpectedly gave way. A surge of water burst through the shaft with tremendous force — the kind of underground flood that leaves workers with only seconds to react. Panic swept through the tunnels as men raced for the exit, the roar of water chasing behind them. But while others ran, Steve turned back to make sure no one was left behind.
One miner reported seeing him heading toward the rising water, counting heads and urging his men to move faster. “He stood his ground until every member of his crew was out,” Governor Patrick Morrisey said. “He spent his final moments ensuring his men could escape.” All seventeen of his miners made it out. Steve did not.
For five days, rescue teams worked tirelessly to reach him. They had to wait for the water to drop to safe levels before entering the flooded areas. At dawn on the fifth day, crews finally reached the corridor where he was last seen. An hour later, they found him — exactly where many expected he would be: at the point of greatest danger, where he believed he was needed most.
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