Historically Important British Paratroopers Beret Belonging to British Army Officer and Later Hollywood Actor, Lieutenant Richard Todd OBE, Who Served with 7th Battalion Parachute Regiment on D-Day, Helping Major Howard to Hold Pegasus Bridge on the 6th June 1944, Who He Later Portrayed in the Film “The Longest Day”, good example of a well worn maroon airborne troops beret with its leather trim and leather rectangular patch behind the blackened brass eyelets. Typical spiralling weave to the top of the beret which is typical of early wartime berets. Heavily worn black cloth lining to the interior with all markings being worn away. Outline of where the original parachute regiment badge was once present. The beret shows heavy wear and has some staining and wear. The beret is accompanied by a signed autograph album page by Todd and three document folders with personal correspondence and production / film role paperwork that belonged to Richard Todd, many of these addressed to him and his home address. This beret and paperwork was all discovered when his property was cleared after his death in 2009 and has been in a private collection since. Richard Todd gave an interview before he died, when he explained his role and experiences during the D-Day landings, “At about 0040 hours on Tuesday June 6 1944, I thumped onto a corn field in Normandy, an illegal immigrant without a passport but nevertheless welcome, I hoped, at least to the locals. I discarded my parachute harness and fumbled with the kitbag cord from my belt. I realised that my right hand was a bit messy. I crouched down and took stock. Aircraft were still coming in and I got my bearings by noting their flight path. There was no one near me and I reckoned that was probably because I had jumped No.1, and therefore was at the extreme end of the "stick". To the east I could just make out the dark line of a wood, and concluded that I was a good half-mile from the battalion rendezvous. Meanwhile, the Dropping Zone was being raked by small-arms fire, so I decided to get into that wood. I put my Sten gun together and loaded it. Once in the wood I heard voices and froze momentarily, only to realise that they were speaking English. In a little clearing, there stood Colonel Pine-Coffin and about a dozen others. The CO said there was no way of knowing if the glider-borne attack on the bridges had been successful and we must get to the rendezvous as quickly as possible. We broke out from the woodland and set off at the double. Scurrying figures were everywhere. By about 0100 our group, numbering by then some 50, was at the rendezvous. A bugler repeatedly blew our rallying signal, and men came stumbling towards us, shadowy, bulky figures. But still no mortars, no machine guns and no wireless. At about 0130 hours the CO gave the order to move off to the bridges even though we still numbered only 150 men, a quarter of our strength. All seemed quiet as we reached the bridge and trotted over it. I got my first sight of a D-Day casualty: a legless German lay at the roadside, a groaning sound coming weirdly from him. Internal gas, I supposed. Normally, the sight of blood turns my stomach, yet I felt only mild curiosity. We doubled along the causeway towards the canal bridge, a large iron structure that could be opened to allow the passage of sea-going craft. Later it was to be named Pegasus Bridge. Suddenly, all hell erupted on the road ahead. Heavy explosions, flashes and tracer bullets rent the night like a spectacular firework display. "Christ!" I thought. "This is it. Here we go!" We speeded up our jog-trot. Then, as quickly as it started, the tumult died down. An old tank probing the bridge had been hit by a piat bomb and this was its ammunition exploding”. He continues with his account from the day, “While the mighty invasion from the sea was being fought out, quite a lot, on a smaller but no less deadly scale, was going on in the 7th Para area. There was no cessation in the Germans' probing with patrols and counter-attacks, some led by tanks, and the regimental aid post was overrun in the early hours. The wounded being tended there were all killed where they lay. So too was Padre Parry, who had evidently fought like a tiger to defend them. Our position had developed into a classic airborne situation. There was no front line as such and the battalion had evolved into four pockets of resistance: the three rifle companies and the Battalion Headquarters group, largely out of touch with each other, but each in positions of their own choosing. From our site on the slope we had a good view of the open ground between us and the canal bridge, and more than once we were able to drive off enemy infiltrating groups with enthusiastic bursts of small arms fire. I had primed my plastic Gammon bomb and kept it handy just in case a tank might break through. There was sporadic enemy mortar and artillery fire we could do nothing about; one shell landed in a hedge near me, killing a couple of our men. I dearly wished we had recovered some of our own three-inch mortars, especially now that a handful of mortar men had got through to us. From my slit trench on the slope at Le Port, I had a perfect view over the bridges and into the divisional area. In the distance, beyond the River Orne, the skyline was stippled with flashes and smoke from explosions or air-burst shells. In the foreground, just below us, was the canal bridge, so brilliantly captured a few hours before by Major Howard and his glider force from the Ox and Bucks Light Infantry. By our end of the bridge, stood the café owned by the Gondrée family, seemingly untouched. It was now being used as a first aid post. George Gondrée and his wife had already dispensed champagne to all those who had had time for a swig - exclusively John Howard's men. The sparkling cache had been buried in his garden since the Germans had occupied the area in 1940, so it had matured nicely. I was contemplating this view when I noticed emerging from a screen of trees two boats apparently deserted and drifting slowly towards Caen. There was little or no current on the canal, so I mentioned my suspicions to the CO and he ordered his HQ group to fire on them. Our fusillade was briefly answered from below decks but, after a direct hit on one boat two parties of Germans emerged and were taken prisoner. So to add to our battle honours that day, we were able to claim a naval victory. At about midday, we finally heard the skirl of bagpipes that heralded the approach of the Commandos under Lord Lovat. More than a thousand men passed through us on their way to the main airborne bridgehead over the Orne. It was a fine sight, and there was great jubilation as red and green berets mingled on the road. There was still no sign of the seaborne infantry or armour reaching our area. We had expected them immediately behind the Commandos. The D-Day programme appeared to be running late.” Todd continued to serve with the Parachute regiment and served with them in Palestine. He was discharged from the army in 1946 and continued to pursue his love of acting. This finally paid off and he became one of England’s most famous actors of the early 1950’s and 1960’s etc. His first major film role, was his portrayal of Wing Commander Guy Gibson VC in the motion picture “The Dam Busters”. He later was cast as Major Howard in the classic war film about the D-Day landings “The Longest Day”, it is believed that Todd wore his original beret (this example) during the filming and had to remove his Parachute regiment cap badge for the purpose of the filming. Richard Todd was a keen supporter of Military charities and events to commemorate the veterans of the Normandy landings and also the 617 Dam Buster squadron. Ricard Todd died at his home in Lincolnshire on 3rd December 2009.
