Bright light / rocket theory

[amashilu]

Yesterday I finished reading all the latest postings re Askinadzi. I don't remember exactly where it was in those interviews, but somewhere there was mention of a very bright light seen by others in the Urals the night of February 1, 1959, around the Mt. Otorten area, followed by a distant sound like thunder. In other places on this website there are also reports of this bright light, and also theories of a failed rocket launch being the cause of everything that happened that night.

Assuming for the moment that there was actually a failed rocket which fell somewhere near the DP9:

How exactly would a falling rocket injure people's bodies?
That is, what injuries might be expected from a falling rocket, and how would they occur exactly? Being hit by the rocket? From shrapnel as the rocket breaks? Burns? Shock wave?

[Axelrod]

memories of another group of tourists on the evening of February 1 from Mount Chistop, 35 km to the south, are important:
And the assault on the mountain is prohibited by all prescriptions and instructions at night. Finds out the ICC – disqualifies! We leave skis and backpacks at the border of the forest. We pull woolen masks over our faces, put ski poles in our hands and go! There is firn snow underfoot, gravel, you can’t even see your own trace. The ascent goes in ledges: a steep slope, an inclined terrace, again a steep slope. The sun fell over the mountain. And ahead looms a pointed peak. Among the Russians, it is called Ostraya Sopka, and among the Mansi – Horse Titka.

Dense darkness and fog creeps along the valleys and gorges. Above the top, the «evening star» – Aurora – the planet Venus, burns brightly. This is our lighthouse.

Frost over thirty. Well, at least there is no wind. Finally, the last takeoff and we are at the top! The night feeling is incredible! In the northwest stretches the Main Ural Range. Against the backdrop of a black sky, 25 kilometers from us, the snowy dome of Mount Otorten turns white. There, at the top, are our fellow students of the UPI, the Dyatlov group.

We quickly find a stone tour and a jar with a note from Permian tourists in a wooden pyramid and leave our own. This proof that we were at the top is for the record. For the last time we take a look at the mountainous night country. But what is it? Above Otorten, cutting through the darkness of the night, a flare soars up. There is no housing in that area. Are polytechnics celebrating the ascent? So they should have been there a few days ago! There is no time to think – the frost is running out. Run down to the forest at random. It's good that there are no dangerous descents. But there are no traces of us. We ran into the forest in total darkness. And where to find our backpacks and skis? Left or right? We break into groups. Flashlights don't work in this cold weather. Finally, in the distance, the lights from matches flare up near one group. Backpacks found, we're saved! We descend in total darkness down into the cedar belt. There is firewood, there is life! But what does it mean to go down a steep slope in the dark? Horror! This must be experienced! As soon as you part and – a break… Someone again lies with his head in the snow. If only the skis didn't break!

Finally, cedar. We crawl around, feeling each tree – we need to find crackers-well. And the lanterns, damned, do not burn in the cold! But here is a cry: – There is a dry tree!

[GlennM]

Would a bright light cause me to cut my way out of a perfectly good tent, walk a mile in the snow without my shoes  and not even jot a note in my dairy?  Not unless it was a very  special light  like the Star of Bethlehem of something of the sort.