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[Dennis David]

Of the race itself I can say but little, as I saw little of it. I believe that the fastest time for the first circuit, or larger half of the complete course, was made by Edge, and that my running time came within a few seconds of his; a result with which I was satisfied in view of the fact that I was driving a car of much smaller horsepower. Anyhow the fact remains that at Carlow I had caught up Jenatzy, who had started seven minutes in front of me, which meant that I had obtained a decided gain in the first thirty miles. I think, it was the sight of my arrival at Carlow on his heels that made Jenatzy infuriated with Owen, who was in front, and who had apparently been impeding his progress, or at least had, owing to the dust, rendered it impossible for Jenatzy to pass him. I was feeling perfectly contented and happy, and was in a good driving mood, and as we ran into the Kildare control, having begun really to settle down, I almost came to the conclusion that we were going to be well in it at the finish. Within two miles of the Kildare control, however, my engine began to miss fire, and, immediately stopping, I found one of the wires loose on a sparking plug. This was remedied, and we were away again immediately, having lost a minute. Round by the sharp turn at Maryborough and on towards Stradbally we sped, and then on a perfectly straight stretch of road, with the car travelling at about sixty miles an hour - not very great for a racing car, but quite fast enough under the particular circumstances - when I suddenly realized that it was not under my control, and that something had gone wrong with the steering.

In a second, and before the brakes could be applied or anything done, the car made a sudden right-angled turn, charged a high grass bank, missing a telegraph pole by a fraction; with a crash we struck the hedge at the top, the car at the same time turning over and down the bank again. The impetus was, of course, terrific, and until I found myself lying in the road I hardly realized that the car had passed over me, crushing me to the ground, and had turned over three or four more times endways and sideways. The dust for the moment prevented anything being seen, and I suddenly realized that before the race I had instructed Bianchi to strap himself into the car to prevent his being thrown out, my experience being that in the case of a mecanicien, his chief danger was in being thrown out of the car. However, in this case Bianchi had gone with the car, and as I picked myself up and ran towards it, it was obvious that he was in a tight place. As I reached the car he made an agonized appeal to me to get him out as quickly as possible, as the red-hot exhaust pipe was pressing onto his chest, and he was in danger of being burned. My own dread was that the car or rather, what remained of it might, before I rescued him, catch on fire. And then I was able to accomplish one of those extraordinary feats, which are only possible of accomplishment in moments of extreme necessity, and under the stress of something more than ordinary will power.

I had, before the race, endeavored by my own unaided strength to raise a wheel of the car to see whether it was possible to do so, in which case we would have carried a fixed stand to rest the car upon in case of a tyre repair being necessary, instead of carrying the usual lifting-jack. But I found that the weight of the car was altogether too much for my strength, and we had to give up the idea and complete our equipment with the usual form of screw jack. And yet when Bianchi appealed to me I forgot everything except that the car had to be lifted off him by some means or other immediately. Even before anyone reached me I had seized a corner of the car and actually lifted it off Bianchi, and there I held it until assistance came from some of the on-lookers, who were on the other side of the hedge, and who seemed at first somewhat reluctant to assist, in view of the fact that other racing cars were expected along every moment. Even then we could not get Bianchi out of his perilous position, as he was held fast underneath by the strap around his wrist, and after I had made a futile attempt to cut this strap away by crawling under the car, the bystanders eventually solved the difficulty by uniting to lift the car off bodily.

I remember seizing Bianchi by the collar, dragging him across the road out of danger-and then earth and sky seemed to meet, and I lost consciousness. The story has been so often told that it hardly bears repetition, but the fact remains that the next thing I remember was a sudden realization that I could not see. I remembered that an accident had happened, and I wondered where I was. I opened my eyes and yet saw nothing. Then the horrible idea occurred to me that possibly, as a result of the accident, I had been rendered totally blind. I was conscious of a sickening numbness down one side, but nevertheless found that I was able to use one arm, and then I discovered the reason I could not see was because a sheet had been thrown over me and I was, in fact, laying in a farmyard, left for dead, with an affrighted crowd of spectators some little distance off. A glance to the left showed that close to me lay another figure, also under a sheet, and I shall never forget the horror of the moment when it occurred to me that under that sheet lay poor little Bianchi dead. I called out to him, and to my relief he replied. I then asked him the somewhat superfluous question as to whether he was alive. He replied in a very faint voice that he thought he was alive, but that he felt very bad.

The various little incidents that occurred are not very clearly imprinted on my memory, but I remember one of the first things I asked for was a cigarette out of my coat pocket and some telegraph forms. I knew the story which would go forth to the world immediately the smash became known, and I knew there was one person in England waiting and longing for news, whom I had to advise of the truth before all else and before false news could arrive. I also sent a telegram to Dr. Lambert Ormesby, the President of the College of Surgeons, Dublin, who I knew was on the grandstand, and who had previously advised me jokingly that he was available if I wanted him, at a moment's notice.

Both of us were lying on the grass, and Bianchi not only felt very bad, but also looked very bad. Then I felt that I must see my car, and in spite of an attempt made to stop me, I made my way out on to the road, walked to my car, and satisfied myself as to the part of the steering which had broken. It was while I was standing gazing at my car, presenting a somewhat ghastly spectacle, with my clothes torn to shreds and blood streaming down my face, that De Caters dashed down the road, and seeing me standing there pulled up. The conversation we had I remember very well, although I was in a somewhat dazed condition. De Caters called out and asked me what had happened and whether I was seriously hurt and whether my mechanician was hurt; to which I replied that my steering was broken; I was, so far as I could tell, not very badly hurt, and I did not think my mechanician was badly hurt either. Then it suddenly dawned on my mind that De Caters was also in the race. It appeared to me that he had come in quite an opposite direction to the way in which I had been travelling prior to the smash. As I realized this I asked him if he was in the race or whether something had happened to him also and he was going back again. He answered that he was in the race and was going well. Then I became greatly excited in my anxiety that he should go on without delay, which he did. I have, in another chapter dealing with his personality, referred to his chivalrous action in afterwards stopping on his arrival at the grandstand, and advising the officials and my friends that he had seen me, and that I was not seriously hurt-an act, I venture to assert, as noble in its character as it is possible for any sportsman to display under any circumstances. My great regret of that day was that my sister, who was