All 33 Miners Saved in Chile

SAN JOSE MINE, Chile - The last of the Chilean miners, the foreman who held them together when they were feared lost, was raised from the depths of the earth Wednesday night - a joyous ending to a 69-day ordeal that riveted the world.

No one has ever been found alive underground after so long.

Luis Urzua ascended smoothly through 2,000 feet of rock, completing a 221/2-hour rescue operation that unfolded with remarkable speed and flawless execution. Before a jubilant crowd of about 2,000, he became the 33d miner to be rescued.

"We had strength, we had spirit, we wanted to fight, we wanted to fight for our families, and that was the greatest thing," he told Chilean President Sebastian Pinera.

The president responded: "You are not the same, and the country is not the same after this. You were an inspiration. Go hug your wife and your daughter." With Urzua by his side, Pinera led the crowd in singing the national anthem.

By about 11 p.m. Philadelphia time, five of the six rescue workers who had been sent down to talk the miners through the final hours also had been hoisted to the surface.

The rescue exceeded expectations every step of the way. Officials first estimated it would be four months before they could get the men out; it turned out to be 69 days and about 8 hours.

Once the tunnel was finished, they estimated it would take 36 to 48 hours to get all the miners to the surface. All the miners were above ground in 22 hours, 37 minutes.

In nearby Copiapo, about 3,000 people gathered in the town square, where a huge screen broadcast live footage of the rescue. The crowd waved Chilean flags and blew on vuvuzelas as cars drove around the plaza honking their horns, their drivers yelling, "Long live Chile!"

One by one throughout the day, the men had emerged to the cheers of exuberant Chileans and before the eyes of a transfixed globe. Each was greeted with the same boisterous applause as the first.

"Welcome to life," Pinera told Victor Segvia, the 15th out. On a day of superlatives, it seemed no overstatement.

They rejoined a world intensely curious about their ordeal, and certain to offer fame and jobs. Riches possibly await men who risked their lives going into the gold and copper mine for $1,600 a month.

The miners made the smooth ascent inside a capsule called Phoenix - 13 feet tall, barely wider than their shoulders and painted in the white, blue, and red of the Chilean flag. It had a door that stuck occasionally, and some wheels had to be replaced, but it worked as planned.

Beginning close to midnight Tuesday, and sometimes as quickly as every 25 minutes, the pod was lowered the nearly half-mile to where 700,000 tons of rock collapsed Aug. 5 and entombed the men.

Then, after a quick pep talk from the rescue workers who had descended into the mine, a miner would strap himself in and make the journey upward.

The rescue was planned with care. The miners were monitored by video on the way up. They had oxygen masks, dark glasses to protect their eyes from the unfamiliar light, and sweaters for the jarring transition from subterranean swelter to chilly desert air.

The miners emerged looking healthier than many had expected and even clean-shaven. Several thrust their fists up like winning prizefighters, and Mario Sepulveda, the second to taste freedom, bounded out, and led his rescuers in a rousing cheer. Franklin Lobos, who played for the Chilean national soccer team in the 1980s, bounced a soccer ball on his foot and knee.

"We have prayed to San Lorenzo, the patron saint of miners, and to many other saints so that my brothers Florencio and Renan would come out of the mine all right. It is as if they had been born again," said Priscila Avalos. Florencio Avalos was the first miner rescued.

Health Minister Jaime Manalich said some probably would be able to leave the hospital Thursday - earlier than projected - but many were unable to sleep, wanted to talk with families, and were anxious.

As it traveled down and up, down and up, the rescue capsule was not rotating as much inside the 2,041-foot escape shaft as officials expected, allowing for faster trips.

For the first 17 days, no one even knew they were alive. On Aug. 22, a narrow bore hole broke through to their refuge and the miners stunned the world with a note, in red ink, disclosing their survival.

Chile exploded in joy and relief when the rescue began in the coastal Atacama Desert. Car horns sounded in Santiago, the capital, and school was canceled in Copiapo.

News channels from North America to Europe and the Middle East carried live coverage. Iran's state English-language Press TV followed events live for a time. Crews from Russia, Japan, and North Korean state TV were at the mine.

The images beamed to the world were extraordinary: Grainy footage from beneath the earth showed each miner climbing into the capsule, then disappearing upward.

Among the first rescued was the youngest miner, Jimmy Sánchez, at 19 the father of a months-old baby. Two hours later came the oldest, Mario Gómez, 63, who suffers from a lung disease common to miners and was on antibiotics inside the mine. He dropped to his knees after emerging, bowed his head in prayer, and clutched the Chilean flag.

The lone foreigner among them, Carlos Mamani of Bolivia, was visited at a nearby clinic by Pinera and Bolivian President Evo Morales. The miner told the Chilean president how nice it was to breathe fresh air and see the stars.

More than 300 people at the mine alone had worked on the rescue or to sustain them during their long wait by lowering tubes dubbed palomas, Spanish for "carrier pigeons." Along with the food and medicine came razors and shaving cream.

President Obama said the rescue had "inspired the world."

The rescue effort included Americans, among them personnel from two Pennsylvania drilling companies, Schramm Inc. and Center Rock Inc., who helped pound the lifeline through rock laced with quartzite, some of the hardest and most abrasive rock.

The men emerged in good health. But at the hospital in Copiapo, where miner after miner walked from the ambulance to a waiting wheelchair, it became clear that psychological issues would be as important to treat as physical ones.

Dr. Guillermo Swett said Sepulveda told him about an internal "fight with the devil" that he had inside the mine. He said another miner appeared to be having a hard time adjusting, and seemed depressed.