When shift foreman Luis Urzua turned up for work at the San Jose mine on 5 August, it seemed a normal day just like any other. As he began the winding, 4½-mile descent underneath the remote Atacama desert to reach the rich seams of copper and gold below, the 54-year-old was unlikely to have foreseen his transformation into a key player in the most highly publicised rescue mission in history. Within minutes of the mine collapsing, the former football coach took three of his men on a damage- assessment mission into the 2km tunnel while ordering the remaining miners to huddle together for safety. They were trapped, 700 metres (2,300 feet) straight down below the earth. Urzua's training in topography helped him map out their subterranean prison and find the 35m² shelter that would prove crucial to their survival. He also ordered that their emergency food stash be rationed to just two spoonfuls of tuna fish and half a glass of milk – every 48 hours.

It was to be 17 days later, when the meagre rations had run out and the men were at starvation level, that a perforation drill rescuers were using hit the roof of their shelter. The miners tied a message round the drill which simply read "the 33 of us in the shelter are well".

Hope replaced horror for those buried deep underground, while above ground, relatives and rescuers at the newly named Camp Ezperanza (Camp Hope) settled in for the long wait.

The rescue of the 33 trapped men could now be closer than initially reported. Chilean government officials say they will be freed by 1 November, but the drillers boring escape tunnels through the solid rock are confident they can start hauling the miners up through specially designed rescue capsules by mid October. There are three simultaneous drilling missions now in place, including the attempt to widen the five-inch opening created during the original search for the men in August. The plan is to create a diameter big enough to bring the men to safety, one by one, by means of three custom-built capsules. Each steel capsule has oxygen supply, communications links, and an emergency exit if it becomes wedged in the rescue shaft.

The capsule, christened the Phoenix, is designed to carry the men even if they are unconscious. A miner and a paramedic with rescue training will be lowered down first and sedatives will be used, if necessary, to help the men endure being immobilised in a steel cage during their perilous journey to the surface.

Mistresses unearthed

Above ground, an unearthing of a different kind has taken place. Reports claimed that at least five wives were unaware of the existence of their respective husbands' mistresses. A British newspaper ran a story of one miner having four women claiming not only entitlement to his affections, but to his benefits and pay packet as well.

Counsellors are on hand to mediate in many of the disputes such as that between one wife and lover who realised they were both praying for the safety of the same man. Pamela Leiva, head social worker at the camp, told of the very public argument between the women. "After the wife tore down a poster by the lover, the lover then taped it back up, defiantly adding the dedication 'Tu Senora', [your wife]."

For many families, anxious to avoid the constant intrusion of the press, a second camp was created, protected by the police and from which journalists are prohibited.

But there are plenty of angles for the media to chase as the drama unfolds. As the rescue team began sending food, hydrations, gels and communication equipment down narrow plastic tubes in the drilled borehole in late August, back came the news that the men hadn't collapsed in panic and disarray during those previous 17 days. A hero was already in the making.

When the first messages began emerging back up the bore hole, Urzua's "military discipline" imposed underground was acknowledged. "The hierarchy of a supervisor in the world of the miner is extremely powerful," said Dr Jaime Manalich, the Chilean minister of health, citing the "natural selection" of men instinctively capable of taking command of a perilous situation in what is one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. Two months in, Urzua is briefed daily on progress, and remains crucial in preparations for the rescue mission.

But for all the indications of the shift foreman's calm efficiency, it's difficult to imagine just what levels of stress the men are now under, having been trapped for two months in the sweltering heat of an unstable mine.

Underground entertainment

There is some distraction from their plight in the availability of a television screen. At first glance, being stuck deep underground with only Brad Pitt for entertainment may not sound too terrifying. But for many, personal music players and handheld video games were the preferred choice rather than DVDs of Troy and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The Chilean miners' requests for MP3s and Nintendos were refused over fears they would isolate the men from one another. "What they need to be is together," said Dr Alberto Iturra Benavides, lead psychiatrist in the rescue mission. Contact with their families via phone and video link also remains limited "because too much contact can be bad for the miners' mental health."

Apart from psychologists, doctors and drilling engineers, the 300-strong rescue team includes communications experts, social workers, PE instructors and professional athletes. Fitness adviser to the Chilean army, Jean Christophe Romagnoli, has been training the men in preparation for the physical, and mental, feat ahead. "Some are walking the 2kms of tunnels, some are jogging. These guys are strong, they are accustomed to working their arms and upper body." Along with the medical attention awaiting the men, a journalist and psychologist are counselling them on how to cope with the glare of the media spotlight when they emerge.

Which might be tempting fate. Because if the operation to bring 'Los 33' up by the rescue capsules fails, the fallback plan is to make each man climb up ladders for hundreds of feet unaided – a feat that would have challenged Achilles himself.

A Chilean mine of information

# The San Jose mine is near Copiapo, 800kms north of Santiago

# The 33 miners are 4.5 miles down the winding mine shaft – about 2,300 feet vertically

# At weekends, each miner is permitted eight minutes of video chat with his family via compact cameras and phones disassembled to fit through the borehole

# Tubes through the borehole pump at least 100 litres of water a day

# Fresh air is pumped down hourly. Humidity is 90%

# The temperature is so warm (32°C in areas) that plastic-wrapped meals sent down retain their heat

# Requests for cigarettes by some men have (reluctantly) been granted, but no alcohol and no MP3s or hand-held video games

# The men are divided into three working groups of 11 and maintain their usual 12-hour shift

# Food, letters, clothes and medicine are lowered down in 'palomas' – a Spanish word for carrier pigeons – in the narrow boreholes.

# Chores include removing loose rocks that drop through the bore holes or in the ceiling

# They have twice daily prayer sessions and twice daily talks with psychologists

# The men are being trained in special fitness regimes via video link

# They sleep in three separate parts of the mine on makeshift beds that have been sent down in small pieces for re-assembly

# The miners earn on average $1,600 a month

# The San Jose mine lacks safety measures such as an escape tunnel – some workers said the mine paid slightly higher wages because of the safety risks involved