Told that he and his tandem jump partner, Colour Sergeant Billy Blanchard, had
landed closer to the “X” target marker on the ground than several
of the young, full-time Red Devils, Mr Hutton said with a twinkle in his
eye: “Aye, that’s experience.”
Mr Hutton, from Bridge of Weir, was a 19-year old when he first jumped into
the same field on the outskirts of the village of Ranville, which his
regiment had been ordered to take on June 6, 1944.
“It was dark, obviously, raining slightly and the moon was bursting out
of the clouds, so I had quite a cushy jump,” he recalled.
“My memories are only of getting to our target. We trained for months and
months and months and we wanted to liberate Ranville.
“Our first task was to clear the drop zone of poles that had been put in
the ground (to prevent aircraft landing).
“Fortunately they had been a wee bit idle and left them loose, so they
were quite easy to get out.”
Mr Hutton joined the Black Watch in 1939 before transferring to 13 Bn, The
Parachute Regiment.
Jack Hutton, circled, during the Second World War (EDDIE MULHOLLAND)
One of the last survivors of his regiment’s jump on D-Day, he said: “We
were jammed in and really it was a bloody pleasure to get out of the
aircraft after the discomfort and so on.
“We all sort of tumbled out one after the other.
“Our commanding officer had a little hunting trumpet which he used to
call us together. It was a wee bit difficult in the dark, moving around,
trying to speak quietly, and meantime there’s machine guns blasting.
“The 13th Bn was a highly jacked up unit. We were extremely fit. We were
all young and we were full of fight.”
He said that as they liberated Ranville, the locals at first refused to
believe they were British soldiers. When they were convinced, “the
calvados came out”.
D-Day veteran Jock Hutton will be jumping again on the same field near
Ranville, where he once parachuted into Normandy
Mr Hutton was injured two weeks after D-Day and as he was recovering in a
hospital in England he met his father for the first time in his life.
Mr Hutton had been brought up in an orphanage after his single mother
emigrated and left him in the care of his grandparents, who died shortly
afterwards.
His father, who had walked out on the family, was still listed as his next of
kin.
A man came into his ward and asked for someone called Hutton. When Jock
responded, the stranger said: “Yes, well, I’m your father.”
After the war he stayed in the services and did “hundreds” of
parachute jumps, including one as recently as last year.
“Being in tandem, you’ve no work to do. No tailbone fractures. I’m very
tender down at that end – I’ve no tailbone now, it’s become my collar bone!”
Dangling from a parachute emblazoned with the logo of the charity Help For
Heroes today, Mr Hutton jumped from ten times the height he did on D-Day. In
1944 he jumped from just 500ft.
He and his tandem partner made a perfect landing, before gently toppling
backwards as they tried to get their balance.
After chatting to Prince Charles, who is in Normandy for the two days of
events commemorating the 70th anniversary of D-Day, Mr Hutton spotted an old
comrade, 89-year-old Bert Marsh, whom he got to know around 10 years ago
through commemoration events in the Ardennes, where they both fought in the
winter of 1944/45.
“Bertie you old beast, I thought you were deed!” exclaimed Mr Hutton
in his broad Scottish accent. Mr Marsh, who last saw Mr Hutton in January,
replied: “You’re a jammy devil Jock!”
After catching up, the two men watched almost 300 British, French, American
and Canadian paratroopers jumping from Hercules transporter aircraft to fill
the sky with round green canopies, recreating the scene on D-Day, only this
time in glorious sunshine, landing in a country whose freedom and peace were
won by Mr Hutton and his brothers-in-arms.
Jock Hutton during his special forces days (EDDIE MULHOLLAND)