They were shooting the promotional clip for Penny Lane. It was early February and bitterly cold as they set up the cameras in Knole Park. It was time to shoot the scene where the Beatles ride past on big white horses.
"I'm not too keen on big animals," Ringo said, eyeing the horse's massive rump.
Paul laughed, "Don't worry, Ringo. Your horse is a tame old mare."
John was attempting to mount his horse, but it kept shielding away from him and stamping its foot. "Here, Paul, you take this bugger. It doesn't like me, and the feeling is mutual."
"All right, doesn't matter to me," Paul shrugged and led the flighty animal away by the reins. Of all of them, he was the one most experienced on a horse.
"Ok, boys, we're set up for the shot," the film director said. "All you need to do is ride though that archway, go through the trees and dismount by the table over there."
"Bloody freezing," Ringo grumbled as Mal helped him get up on the horse. Mal held onto the reins for him until it was time to shoot the scene. George looked fairly comfortable on his white mount, while John tried to feel at ease. Paul swung himself up in the saddle. They all looked rather dashing in their red riding jackets and dark moustaches. As Paul turned his horse to check on the others, it fought his hold on the reins and pranced sideways toward a tree.
"Oh, no you don't." Paul murmured in its ear, aware that it may have been planning to swipe off this pesky human with the nearest tree. He called out to John, "You're right, John, this is a feisty one."
"Well, you can keep it, and all of them as far as I'm concerned," John said. "Let's get this over with--I ain't no cowboy," he added with a drawl.
"You said it there, pardner," Ringo agreed nervously.
The four walked the horses past the area they were supposed to ride through. Paul and George's mounts both sidestepped and threw their heads in irritation.
"All right and...action!" the cameraman yelled.
One at a time, the Beatles filed their horses through the arch. First came John, then George. Then as the camera focused on the third horse passing through, it suddenly reared and let out a shrill neigh. Paul gripped the horse's sides with his thighs as it reared, thinking briefly to himself as he hauled on the reins and fought the animal that this would make a great shot. Then the horse went wild, kicking and twisting and lunging. Terrified, Ringo jumped off his horse and ran behind the nearest tree.
Paul continued to wrestle for control, fighting to keep the animal calm. It veered off, galloping under a low-growing tree, smashing Paul's head against a thick branch with a sickening thwack. He tumbled off the fleeing horse and lay still. To every witness's horror, the beast wheeled back around and reared up over Paul's prone body, trying to trample him.
Cameras forgotten, all rushed toward the figure on the ground and the huge animal seemingly intent on attacking him. Still on their horses, which impassively watched the entire scene, John and George urged them over to Paul. The crazed horse turned away with a scream and ran off through the trees. Flinging themselves down, John and George knelt next to Paul. He lay face up, arms outstretched, head to one side, eyes closed.
"Don't move him!" Neil shouted as he ran closer. But John took Paul's head in his lap and looked down at him.
"Christ, he's bleeding," he said in alarm to George. Besides a free-flowing gash on his forehead from the impact with the tree branch, blood was coming from Paul's mouth.
"Shit, call an ambulance!" George yelled to the gathering crowd. He caught Neil's eye as he came panting up. "We've got to get him to hospital." Neil nodded and ran across the park to find a telephone.
John touched Paul's shoulder. "Paul, can you hear me? Macca? Wake up."
Paul moved his head slightly and opened his eyes. He first saw Ringo and George kneeling next to him. Spitting out blood with a grimace, he asked them, "What happened?"
"The horse went spare and threw you," George answered.
"Bloody great beast," Ringo muttered.
Paul let out a laugh but stopped abruptly and closed his eyes.
"Paul?" John asked. Paul looked up at him with pain in his expression. The continued ooze of blood from his mouth dripped down the side of his chin, neatly matching the colour of his jacket. Then John noticed blood starting to come from Paul's nose as well and knew this was not a good sign.
"Where' s the fucking ambulance? Someone get a blanket or something to cover him," he yelled.
"Easy, John," George said gently.
Paul began to tremble from shock; his face rapidly losing colour. "Guess I shouldn't have traded horses with you," he whispered to John. "Hell of a way to do me in, Lennon." John noticed his breathing was coming fast and hard.
Ringo had gathered several coats from onlookers and spread them over Paul to keep his temperature up in the winter air. Briefly Paul opened his eyes, but said nothing, seemingly intent on holding in the pain.
"Come on, mate, hang in there," John whispered to him. They all could hear the sirens approaching now. Paul choked on the blood welling from his mouth and coughed, spraying John in the face with his warm blood.
Paul groaned, "It's hard to breathe."
John was terrified that Paul was dying right there in his arms while he sat there helplessly. He looked at George and Ringo in panic as Paul's head fell limply to one side.
George knelt next to him, one hand on John's shoulder, and gripped Paul's hand with the other. As John looked on in bewilderment, he closed his eyes and bent his head, looking as if he were in prayer. After a few silent moments, George opened his eyes and quietly said. "You'll be ok, Paul. Come on, open your eyes."
Almost drowsily, Paul opened his eyes as the paramedics ran into the clearing, asking the crowd to step back. George surrendered his grip on Paul's hand, but John stayed where he was with Paul's head pillowed on his lap.
"Hare Krishna, George," Paul whispered as George stood. George smiled with tight lips and pulled Ringo back out of the way of the paramedics.
John explained to the medics what had happened, although none of them was sure if the horse actually stepped on Paul or not. As they removed the coats to check him, one medic pointed at a partial hoofprint in mud on Paul's jacket and said grimly, "It got him."
John looked worriedly at Paul's face. His eyes were clenched shut and his mouth pinched in a thin line as the paramedics poked and prodded. Although a bit taken back when they first saw their patient, both men immediately set to work with efficiency. One asked Paul where it hurt.
Fighting to talk through the bubbles of blood, Paul faintly replied that his chest felt heavy. John said, "He said it was hard to breathe." The medics glanced at each other and hurried their preparations.
"Ok, we have to lift you onto the stretcher," one of them told him. "One, two, three..Go!" They lifted him between the two of them and shifted him onto the wheeled stretcher. Paul gasped once as they lifted him off the ground.
John stood up on shaky legs and followed the others to the ambulance. Tears of pain stood out in Paul's eyes as they tried to steer the stretcher smoothly over the bumpy ground. One medic glanced down at him and gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. "Almost there, Paul."
George, Ringo and John clustered around the back of the ambulance as they prepared to lift him up. Suddenly Paul moaned, turned his head to one side and vomited a large quantity of glistening blood.
"Oh, God," Ringo groaned, "Is he going to make it?"
"Shurrup, Ringo!" John snapped.
"I...I'm sorry," Ringo stammered, "I'm just worried..."
"Ok, Ring," George put his arm over Ringo's shoulder.
"One of you can ride with us," the paramedic in back of the ambulance said. "But we've got to get moving."
"Go ahead, John," George said, "We'll follow."
"Yeah," John said distractedly and climbed into the vehicle next to Paul and the medic. The other medic slammed the door and got in the front to drive.
"Talk to him, sing, do anything to keep him conscious," the paramedic told John as they took off with sirens blaring.
Paul was white. The blood all over his face looked obscenely bright. John felt ill with worry and dread but took his cold hand. "Paul, can you hear me?"
Paul's hazel brown eyes fluttered open to look at him, then rolled back in his head. He lay deathly still. John could sense him slipping away.
"Come on, man," John said fiercely, "don't go on me. Haven't I had enough people in my life leave me?" His voice was raw with pain.
"You expect me to hang around in this shitty world if you go? I won't--I'll do myself in." His voice cracked and he had to rub the angry tears out of his eyes. He looked back down at Paul to see tears squeezing out between his closed lids.
John groaned, "Please, Paul, please."
Paul gasped and, with great effort, forced his eyes open. He stared at John and gasped out, "Selfish...bastard..."
John started to laugh and cry in relief as he gripped Paul's hand and let it down. "That's right, that's me," he said. "Just don't go scaring the shit out of me like this again, aye?"
"Do you...think...I enjoyed...it?" Paul replied, closing his eyes.
"Macca!" John said in alarm.
Paul opened his eyes again. "It's ok, Lenny."
John dredged up images of their not-so-distant past escapades to keep Paul conscious. At one point he thought to himself, "This medic is sure getting an earful."
Paul stayed with him, their eyes always connecting, although he continued to cough up blood. After what seemed like an eternity to John, they pulled up to the hospital emergency entrance where a small crowd of doctors, nurses and bystanders had heard about the accident and were waiting to catch a glimpse of the famous patient. The paramedics in the ambulance leaped out, unloaded the stretcher with care, pulled John along with them, and rushed through the curious crowd into the ER.
As they neared the "No Visitors Beyond This Point" doors, Paul reached out his hand to John. It was shaking and cold to the touch. John shuddered but squeezed Paul's hand and tried to look reassuring. "Hang in there, son. We made it this far." They swept Paul through the swinging doors and disappeared from view.
