A story of survival

It was something Jim Brinkley had done hundreds of times.

This past February, needing to haul a load of corn to market, the longtime farmer climbed into one his grain bins to break up the crust that had formed during the winter. The 4,000-bushel bin on his Milan, Mo., farm had been “cored”—emptied slightly in the fall to remove the center—and snow and moisture had caused the top layer to harden and hinder grain flow.

This was a routine job for Brinkley, one he usually completed solo. Normally, he would climb inside the bin without the auger running, probe the grain, and then climb out to turn on the motor himself—repeating the process until he got the grain flowing.

But this fateful day, with his truck driver on hand, Brinkley decided to “take a shortcut.” He asked his driver to stay outside and operate the auger while he went inside with a piece of rebar to dislodge the grain. When the corn started flowing, Brinkley pounded on the side of the bin with the rebar—the agreed-upon signal to shut the motor off. But the driver didn’t hear him. And the grain didn’t stop.

“I tried to climb out of there, but it was running too fast. I couldn’t get out,” Brinkley recalled. “Luckily, I had my phone and headset with me. I tried to call my wife, but she didn’t answer. So, I called our shop guy and told him, ‘Get down here and shut that motor off.’”

By the time help arrived, the corn had swallowed Brinkley up to his neck.

“I was panicking,” he admitted. “We’d only pulled one load from that bin, so there was at least 12 feet of corn inside. I knew I was in trouble.”

Brinkley again called his wife, Sherry, who was sweeping the shop floor after doing farm chores. This time she picked up.

“He said, ‘You need to come down to the grain bins, and see where I’m at,’ and then he hung up,” she said. “I didn’t think anything of it and just sauntered down there—it was a nice day. But when I got to it, there wasn’t a soul around. I looked up, and the driver was on top of the bin.”

About that time, their shop foreman emerged with a “God-awful” look Sherry said she’ll never forget.

“I said, ‘Is Pogo in that bin?’” referring to her husband by his nickname. “He said yes. ‘Is he trapped?’ I asked. Yes. ‘Is he alive?’ He said, ‘For now.’”

Reluctant to call 911, Sherry phoned her daughter, Crystal Bupp, Milan’s city administrator, who quickly urged her to make the emergency call.

“I knew if I called them, and he got out, Jim was going to be mad,” Sherry said. “But I hung up, called 911, and that’s when things started happening.”

Members of the Milan Volunteer Fire Department had just returned to the station from a brush fire call when the alarm came in. They were able to expediently regroup and head to the Brinkley farm. Crews from nearby Green City and Galt also responded to help.

“We didn’t have grain bin rescue gear at the time,” Milan Fire Chief Zach Hoover said. “But a lot of us had been through the training—with Mizzou and other classes—so we knew the basics.”

With the help of Brinkley’s farm crew, the firefighters began carefully scooping grain from around the farmer to relieve the pressure and allow him to breathe.

“Every breath you take in there, the corn settles more,” Brinkley said. “It gets tighter. I could breathe at first, but after 20, 30 minutes, it was getting tough. Once they got it opened up, and I could breathe again, I knew I’d be okay.”

But it quickly became clear that Brinkley couldn’t be freed without cutting into the bin. He didn’t want the mess of spilled grain, but it was the only way to get him out.

“I first thought that we could get the corn away from me and they could pull me out, but that was a lost cause,” Brinkley said. “If you get in thigh-deep, you can’t bend your legs. You’re stuck there. You’ve got to get the grain moved.”

Using saws and makeshift tools, the firefighters opened sections of the bin to allow corn to flow out. By this time, Joseph Woods, MFA Agri Services manager at Milan, and some of his team had arrived on the scene and helped move the piles.

After what felt like an eternity to Brinkley and his rescuers, the farmer finally emerged from the grain bin door. He was shaken but uninjured—except for a sky-high blood pressure reading that prompted a visit to the hospital. He drove himself.

“The first thing I said when he got out was, ‘You know better than that!’” Sherry said. “We’ve talked about this a hundred times. I really thought we were going to lose him. But the good Lord wasn’t ready for him yet.”

Exactly two years earlier, the Milan Fire Department was involved in another grain bin rescue in neighboring Putnam County that didn’t have a successful end. Another fatality occurred in Marceline later that same week Brinkley was trapped. Hoover said it was time to make sure his fire crew was better prepared should such a situation occur again.

“This hit too close to home,” Hoover said. “So, we sold some trucks and used the money to buy grain bin rescue equipment. We got the tube, auger, drill, slats to stand on—everything.”

“We equipped one of our trucks just for grain bin rescues,” added Assistant Fire Chief Larry Dorsey. “All we have to do is jump in and go.”

The whole system was more than $3,000, but Hoover said it was well worth it.

“I would have bought this a long time ago if I knew it was going to save someone’s life,” he said.

Incidents like Brinkley’s aren’t uncommon—and often end in tragedy. According to Purdue University’s Agricultural Confined Space Incident Report, there were 83 grain entrapments in 2023, with nearly half resulting in death. The primary cause? Entering a bin while grain is flowing or bridging on a crusted surface. Moving grain creates a suction, acting like quicksand, and can bury someone in seconds.

Once a person sinks past their knees, self-extraction becomes nearly impossible. At waist depth, the force required to escape can exceed 400 pounds. If engulfed chest-deep or higher, the pressure restricts breathing and circulation, often leading to suffocation.

Brinkley considers himself lucky—and wants other farmers to learn from his experience.

“I first thought that we could get the corn away from me and they could pull me out, but that was a lost cause,” Brinkley said. “If you get in thigh-deep, you can’t bend your legs. You’re stuck there. You’ve got to get the grain moved.”

“I would tell anyone, don’t assume the person outside knows exactly what to do,” he said. “Make sure you’ve got clear communication. Don’t take shortcuts.”

The Occupational Safety Hazard Association (OSHA) says workers should never enter a bin while grain is moving. If entering the bin is necessary, equipment should be turned off and locked out before going inside. A trained observer should be outside of the bin in case of an emergency. OSHA also recommends using a safety harness and anchored lifeline when entering a bin and cautions that workers should never walk down grain to make it flow.

If an emergency does happen, it’s important to know who to call and which first responders in the area have the right tools and training. Hoover said he encourages other fire departments—volunteer or otherwise—that operate in area with grain bins to find a way to purchase the rescue equipment and learn how to use it.

“Don’t be scared of the money. If you can afford it, buy it,” he said. “If you can’t, don’t be afraid to ask for help from another department that does have the equipment.”

As for Brinkley, he went back into a different bin the very next day—this time alone, with everything shut down.

“I did it the way I always had,” he said. “I’d never done it with the motor on, but I’d never had somebody there with me. Won’t do it again. It was miscommunication on my part, which is what I think happens in a lot of these cases. And I realize they don’t always end well.

He paused, smiled, and said softly, “I was very blessed. There’s no question about it.”    

Top image cutline: Members of the Milan Volunteer Fire Department responded quickly to the call for help at the Brinkley farm. At the time, they didn’t have proper grain bin rescue equipment, but they used knowledge from previous training to successfully get Brinkley out. Since then, the firefighters have purchased the “Great Wall of Rescue” system, which includes a metal tube, portable auger, drill and slats to stand on while in the bin. 

Left image cutline: In February, a routine farm chore turned into a dangerous situation for Jim Brinkley after the longtime livestock and row-crop producer was engulfed up to his neck in a grain bin three-fourths full of corn.

Check out more stories in the August/September Today's Farmer Magazine.