THEY were the luckiest blokes in history: two gold miners who survived a fortnight in a tiny steel cage after an earthquake trapped them almost a kilometre underground.

When Brant Webb and Todd Russell walked out of Beaconsfield mine 10 years ago, joyfully punching their fists into the air after a hi-tech rescue effort that captivated a watching world, their futures seemed assured.

Not only did they survive, the miners were each paid $1 million for their stories in one of Australia’s richest-ever media deals, setting them up for a future almost certainly free of another shift underground.

“It sounds like a fairytale story for them, but that’s not the way it’s worked out,” said close mate Greg Crowden.

Miner Larry Knight’s message from beyond the grave

The affable Webb is close to broke, working four jobs to pay his mortgage and still battling stress and anxiety.

Russell is captain of the local fire brigade and is an explosives consultant to mining companies. He bought 14 hectares with $185,000 of his million-dollar deal — which was controversially taxed at the ATO’s second job rate — and built a sprawling home for his family. A private man, he has never been happy with public attention and being recognised for his role in the great escape.

Neither would speak to News Corp for this story, having been again contracted to Channel 9 for any stories regarding the 10-year anniversary. But close friends and townsfolk were happy to paint a picture of how life has panned out for the pair.

Webb makes home deliveries for the local Beauty Point Hotel bottle-o, consults to a vineyard, tells his survival story to tour groups to the town and helps out at Crowden’s outboard motor workshop.

His boss, Greg Crowden, says Webb suffers flashbacks and anxiety, as well as unresolved grief over the loss of his good mate, Larry Knight.

Father-of-three Knight, 44, died in the rockfall just before 9.30pm on Anzac Day, 2006. He was driving the telehandler holding Webb and Russell, who were caught in small cage at the end of the vehicle’s arm.

Knight’s body was discovered two days later and many assumed Webb and Russell had also perished. When a colleague heard them yelling out four days later, news of their extraordinary survival reverberated around the world.

But for their rescuers, this was only the start of the battle. It would be nine more fraught days before the men’s release as, above the surface, the world’s media converged on the small town where the men’s loved ones waited.

“The families were very optimistic the whole time — but, inwardly, I worried for their hope,” says former Beaconsfield mayor Barry Easther.

“We were all thinking how on earth can they survive, but the miners always talked about the rescue; it was never a recovery as far as they were concerned and I suppose that rubbed off on all of us.

“But you did think, deep down, it would have to be an absolute miracle if they survived. And they did. It was a miracle.”

If their families feared their deaths, it was a lot worse for Russell and Webb — and both are haunted by the memories of the precarious two weeks when they constantly feared their deaths.

“They both thought, for a lot of the time, they weren’t going to make it,” said Crowden, who was part of the 12-strong mine rescue team which worked around the clock to free them.

“You have to remember it wasn’t a slab of rock sitting above them, it was a lot of fines (smaller rocks). It would only take one keystone rock to come out and it was over for them, which they were aware of.

“We had to drill and put explosives in a couple of times a day to blast a passage to free them and with the drilling all the time, they spent the whole time thinking they were going to die.

“They wrote their lovenotes to their families on their uniforms and they were lying there for two weeks waiting for stuff to fall on them, waiting to die.”

Crowden said Webb had struggled the most.

“He’s done some rehab to get back into work but he’s still got these issues, it’s like he’s had to start again,” he said.

And as for that record-setting payday for their exclusive stories, both men openly talk of their continued mortgages to mates.

Larry Knight’s uncle, Nigel Barwick, who worked at the mine in 2006 and now volunteers as a tour guide at the mine museum that draws up to 40,000 visitors to the town since the goldmine stopped operating in 2012, said it was common knowledge the money was gone.

“They may have got a million dollars each when it was all over, but Todd basically spent his on building a huge great house with a swimming pool,” he said.

Crowden said Webb had bought himself “a few toys”, such as the yacht and jetskis in his front yard.

“But the taxman took half of it, and they still have to live,” he said.

Opposition Leader Bill Shorten who, in 2006 was president of the Australian Workers’ Union and has been lauded for his leadership during the Beaconsfield crisis, said it was “ridiculous” the pair were forced to hand over so much of their payout in taxes.

“I was very disappointed that the Tax Office taxed whatever benefit they received from telling their story as a second job,” he said.

“They were classed as professional entertainers and ... I thought that was needlessly bureaucratic of the ATO.”

Mr Shorten has remained in contact with Webb and Russell and plans to join them in Tasmania for a quiet 10th anniversary ceremony of the disaster.

Describing his role helping the Webb, Russell and Knight families as an honour, he said their story continued to captivate.

“At its heart, it was the bravery of these two men, the love of their families and the rescuers.

“I think it gave us a glimpse of Australia that people don’t think exists anymore. It was a small country town, it had three pubs then.

“I got to see brave people, determined people, everyday people never give up, and to be a sort of bit player in this amazing story was just an amazing privilege.”