The time I was thinking about there were no friends anywhere near, as we had just moved out of London, DH was in the ME for a fortnight, I was still on maternity leave, and as we’d only arrived in the village (which was never a friendly place for me), we knew no one at all. Even DH’s new colleagues were virtual strangers in the nearest city.
But when DS had an accident one neighbour took us to hospital (snowing, no car, faster than an ambulance), and another neighbouring couple dropped off groceries to us and offered lifts.
I barely knew their names at that point (and, awkwardly, the two different sets of neighbours loathed one another, due to some long-running feud whose reason I never figured out), and in fact we never became friends despite doing a bit of socialising, but they helped when I needed it, and I made sure they knew I was grateful.
I’ve actually often found strangers very willing to help in a crisis, as there’s not much required other than assistance. I do it myself when I can, like helping out a quite ill fellow-patient in the GP when a translator hadn’t shown up, or when, last year, an elderly couple had a minor car crash right outside my gate and I brought them in and made them tea as they had to wait for a lift, and were cold and shocked. But a neighbour across the way (different place to the village) was on his way out to do the same, and quite a few people around here took in Ukrainians.
TL; DR — helping in a crisis isn’t necessarily a test of friendship.