Здорово, Вот очень трогательная статья из книги The Science Of Safety. Да, несомненно он был великим, но так роспорядилась судьба... I was trying to get people to help me, and if I could have turned the car over he would have been all right, we could have got him out. -David Purley In motor racing’s lengthy and often tragic history, few incidents have left such an indelible stain on its character as the accident in which 25-year-old Roger Williamson was the needless victim of fire at Zandvoort during the Dutch Grand Prix of 1973. He had quickly worked his way up to 13th place by the eighth lap, running just ahead of fellow Briton David Purley, who was running a similar car under the private LEC Racing banner. A star in F3 and F2, Williamson was gaining experience prior to graduating full-time to F1 in 1974 with a McLaren M23 entered by his mentor Tom Wheatcroft, the Leicester builder and developer later to become famous for resurrecting Donington Park and its enviable collection of historic racing cars. Then, going into the first of two very quick fifth-gear right-hand curves out on the back of the circuit, the left front tyre exploded. Purley saw the red March veer left, strike the kerb and then hit the Armco barrier at an angle of around 45°. It rode along the top of the rail, which had been incorrectly installed in sand, not concrete. The barrier leaned backwards, and became a launching ramp. Williamson’s March flew for perhaps 73 m (240 ft), then landed upside down on the opposite side of the track. As it slid along the road for another 100 m (330 ft), fuel eruption of flame, but as the car came to rest, just on the apex of the second fast right-hander, the fire temporarily died down. Purley had witnessed the whole thing. Later he would shrug off the hero status that his ensuing actions attracted, explaining that his training as a paratrooper had simply kicked in. Unlike any of his fellows, he immediately stopped his car on the left-hand side of the track, and sprinted to the accident scene. There he found Roger Williamson alive, but trapped in the cockpit of the upturned car. Around him, marshals stood transfixed, unable to impel themselves to go near the smoking car. None of them was wearing the correct fireproof clothing, though it was never clear whether this was because they chose not to wear it. A little further round the track, no more than 46 to 92 m (150 to 300 ft) just beyond the right-hander, the crew of a firefighting vehicle stayed in position, refusing to travel against the flow of traffic. They did not consider reversing, or undertaking a complete lap to get to the accident, even though for two laps the fire was fairly subdued. Meanwhile, another firefighting truck moved slowly from the paddock area in the direction of the accident, with no warning to approaching drivers. “You would have thought that with double-waved yellows, you would have made the original fire truck go back to the scene”, Mosley says trenchantly. “The whole thing was a f*ck-up, that wouldn’t happen today, because we have sensible people running the races, and the sensible people in the medical and emergency cars. It wouldn’t have happened. In the end it always comes down to the same thing: it’s not the cause of an accident that matters, it’s the consequence.” Aghast at the apathy all round him, Purley attempted to alone to push the car over on to its wheels, all the while aware of Williamson pleading for help to escape. Purley would single-handedly strain so hard that he ruptured blood vessels in both arms. For agonising moments – perhaps two or three vital minutes – there was a sufficient time for a group of strong men to have turned the car over and helped Williamson out. But nobody came forward to help Purley. Then after other cars had completed a further two laps the fire began to take hold once more. He ran across the track to grab an extinguisher, only to find that it didn’t work. Finally, one marshal came forward with another, which also malfunctioned. Purley implored other marshals to move forward and help. None did. By now the fire had gained hold again, and was simply too strong. The marshals let it burn. Assaulted but exhaustion and haunted by a terrible sense of inadequacy, Purley could still hear Williamson’s cries as the marshals finally shook off their torpor and ventured forward to pull him away. Angrily, he shrugged them off and staggered away, crying his own tears of frustration . Elsewhere, police with dogs occupied themselves restraining any spectator brave enough to move to Purley’s aid. “I just couldn’t turn it iver,” Purley said. “I could see Roger was alive and I could hear him shouting, but I couldn’t get the car over. I was trying to get people to help me, and if I could have turned the car over he would have been all right, we could have got him out.” All this while the race continued, and none of the other drivers stopped to render assistance. White smoke would obscure the track by the accident scene for several laps, and several drivers reported that they could feel their throttle slides sticking every time they passed the smoking wreckage. In it lay the body of man who would surely in time have challenged any of them. Some, among them GPDA safety representative Denny Hulme, signaled angrily that the race should be stopped every time he passes the pits. But in those days there was no precedent for doing so. In later years both Denny and Mike Hailwood, who had rescued Clay Reazzoni from his burning BRM earlier in the season at Kyalami, admitted that the were ashamed they had not had the courage to stop and help Purley. And later, like Hailwood, Purley was awarded the George Medal for gallantry for his brave efforts. “Had the car not been upside down, Roger would have got out of it,” Mosley suggests. “The marshals were, I think, very cowardly. If that had happened opposite the pits, everybody would have turned it up right way whether they were dressed properly or not. It was possible to do it.” The Dutch organizers deliberately put about a story that Williamson had died in the impact. The official report later confirmed what Purley already knew; Williamsn was alive and uninjured, and died of asphyxiation. The organizers also made no comment on the fact that, since Piers Courage’s fiery death three years earlier, only yards from the scene of the Williamson accident, its marshals appeared to have learned nothing. When Courage died, his de Tomaso had been left burn and marshals had simply thrown sand on to it, leaving Courage’s body aboard until the scared race had run its course. In Williamson’s case, they simply righted the car the car and then threw a sheet over it until the race had finished. “All the organizers did for Roger was to get the car back to the garage,” Mosley recalls, “then come to ask if a couple of us would go down and get the cadaver out. That was their only real concern. It was all so unnecessary. It could and should have been avoided. Roger was a good driver, sensational. He would have been a big star.” Просто нет слов...
