‘A Great Ride’

Nov. 1, 2025

D-Day veteran Gordon Schottlander looks back on a century of epic events and everyday blessings

By Columbia staff

Nov. 1, 2025

Gordon Schottlander, who turned 100 on Jan. 10, 2025, is pictured at his residence in Burlington, Ontario. — Gordon Schottlander, who turned 100 on Jan. 10, 2025, is pictured at his residence in Burlington, Ontario, where he is a member and past grand knight of St. Gabriel’s Parish Council 10061. (Photo by Nadia Molinari)

Gordon Schottlander was born on Jan. 10, 1925, in London, England, the only child of Solomon “Sam” and Violet Schottlander. Sam, a veteran of World War I, rarely spoke about his military service. “After my father’s death in 1975,” Gordon recalled, “we found his military medals for bravery but no record of how he got them.”

His own four sons then began to ask about his service during World War II, telling him, “Dad, you can’t leave us in that same position.”

“So I started talking, and talking, and talking,” Gordon said.

A past grand knight of St. Gabriel’s Parish Council 10061 in Burlington, Ontario, Schottlander celebrated his 100th birthday earlier this year, on Jan. 10. Later that month, he spoke with Columbia about his eventful life, including his experience at Normandy on June 6, 1944. This personal account is adapted from that conversation and supplemented with details from an interview conducted in March for the Oral History Project at Crestwood Preparatory College in Toronto.

In 1938, my father decided that if there’s a war, then London’s going to be bombed. So we moved west of the city and were never in the war zone. Two years later, my boarding school in Brighton was closed because the Germans had invaded France and were 20 miles off the southern coast of England. So, at age 15, I got home from school earlier than usual, and that was the end of my formal education.

Gordon Schottlander is pictured after enlisting in the British army at age 17. World War II had begun two years earlier, in September 1939. (Photo courtesy of Crestwood Preparatory College, Oral History Project)

At that time, we were all listening to Churchill. We thought he was wonderful — most Brits did — because he was standing up to the Germans. At age 17, I joined the British army. I knew I was going to be called up, and I didn’t want to be under the ocean, on the ocean, or up in the air. If you volunteered, you could choose the service you wanted to go into, so that’s what I did. My parents didn’t want me to, but they understood.

I was born Jewish, but the army had to change that on my paperwork; they said if the Germans ever caught me, they’d probably kill me. So I became a member of the Church of England on paper.

Then, I was attached to the Royal Berkshire Regiment, in Reading, and I trained in Hull. It was quick because they wanted people in the service as fast as they could. It was hard — they really put you through it — but I was young and fit.

From there, I was assigned to the Signal Corps and sent to the Isle of Man for training in Morse code and flags. We did some training with landing craft in Wales and commando training in Scotland. I did officer training too, which was very hard, and became a second lieutenant.

Finally, I was sent out to the Mareth Line [in Tunisia] to help stop the [German-Italian] invasion of North Africa. I was there helping with signals for nine months and then sent back to Reading.

ACROSS THE CHANNEL

Two days before D-Day, I was taken at short notice and shipped down to Portsmouth, on the southern coast. It was rough and cold and wet, with rain and fog, and we all thought the invasion would be called off — but they decided to go ahead.

I was part of the 5th Royal Berkshire Battalion, attached to the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division. I was a young officer with 30 men under me, and a lot of them were seasick; fortunately, I wasn’t.

We went across the English Channel at night in a landing craft. We had a pastor on board, and he said a prayer for us all. Personally, I felt peaceful — calm. With 30 men to look after, that was a blessing, because my attention was on them rather than on myself.

Canadian soldiers storm Juno Beach in Normandy on D-Day, June 6, 1944. Second Lieutenant Gordon Schottlander landed nearby as an officer in charge of 30 men with the British 5th Royal Berkshire Battalion, attached to the 3rd Canadian Infantry Division. (Photo by Imperial War Museum/AFP via Getty Images)

One of the things I really remember was the noise — the planes going over, hundreds of planes — but most of it came from the shells of the big ships a few miles back. And of course, when we got close to the shore, the bullets started hitting the boat. We knew we were going to be under fire, and that’s exactly what happened.

We landed at Juno Beach about 6:35 a.m. The door went down, the bullets flew, and we ran. We pushed our way through waist-deep water as fast as we could and got onto the beach. I could feel the bullets whistling by me, and some of my friends went down, but we weren’t allowed to help them — the medics would. You had to keep going; if you stopped, you became a target.

Once we got on the beach and over a little hill, we were finally under cover. We lost about eight men, killed, and some were injured; I think almost half made it onto the beach. It was a tough time.

We didn’t know the master plan, of course, and I knew even less because I came on late. The mission was to get on the beach. But then we were stuck there — we couldn’t move. So we made tea and cigarettes; you know Brits — that’s what we did. We were there for four or five hours until, I think, the Americans took out most of the German guns.

Later, I was ordered to join my regiment. There were a lot of other troops around: Canadian, British, American. The locals were pleased to see us — they brought us eggs, wine, hot meals — and we flirted with the girls. We had liberated them; they were very grateful.

FROM CAEN TO CANADA

The capture of Caen, 15 miles south of Juno Beach, was the next objective. Halfway there, I got injured. A mortar bomb landed about 10 or 12 feet away, killing three other men beside me. Shrapnel hit my legs and knees, and I got knocked out. When I woke up, I wondered why I had water in my boots — and of course, it was blood.

The medics came in, dressed my wounds, and sent me back to England. That was the end of the war for me, though I would stay in the army several more years. First, I was sent to a hospital near Reading. I remember one nurse made me laugh so hard that I burst my stitches. The doctor was very angry.

I had metal all the way down my legs. Little pieces came out for years afterward.

I was sent to recover in Bangor, Northern Ireland — and that’s where I met my wife. I was assigned to Hollywood Barracks, the Royal Ulster Rifles regiment. One of our duties as young officers was to escort the families of senior officers who came to visit. At a big party, a friend and I were standing at the door when a blonde and a brunette stepped out of a car. I said, “I’ll take the blonde.” Her name was Colleen. We met that night and never parted for 65 years.

On VE Day — May 8, 1945 — Colleen and I went to downtown Belfast and celebrated with everyone. The following year, we were married there.

Still in the army, from 1947 to 1950 I was sent to the Royal West African Frontier Force, stationed in Freetown, Sierra Leone.

We came back to England in 1950, and I was looking for work. So many people were leaving the army that jobs were scarce. We were living with Colleen’s parents in Plymouth, and one day I got off a bus in the pouring rain and ducked into a doorway. I saw pictures of Niagara Falls and Toronto, so I popped inside — it was Canada House — picked up some brochures, and later threw them on the bed and said, “Let’s go to Canada.” And that’s exactly what we did. If I’d stepped into Australia House, we would have moved to Australia!

We stayed briefly in Windsor, Ontario, then Hamilton, where our first son was born in 1952. The next year we moved to Burlington. Three more boys followed. I was an only child, but I have a big family now — with lots of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

FAITH, FAMILY, FRATERNITY

Colleen came from a Catholic family, but I felt that to become Catholic I had to feel it from the heart. With the help of a very fine priest — and my wife — I entered the Church in 1968. I was very happy doing so, and I’ve been happy ever since.

I joined the Knights of Columbus in 1997, in Surrey, British Columbia, when I ran a business on the west coast for a time. I was impressed by the work the Order was doing and joined the local council. The Knights, to me, have been a wonderful organization. I’ve had so many great friends, and we’ve done so much in the community. It’s been very good for me — spiritually, emotionally, every way.

Living a good life, I believe, means doing your best for people and hurting nobody. You need to be aware of what’s going on around you, make good decisions, and be part of a family — your own family of course, but the Knights have also been a family to me since the day I joined. I’m grateful to all my brother Knights who have given me so much in my life. There’s no better organization in the world.

I don’t know why I’ve lived to 100. My wife died in her 80s. Some people live long, some don’t. I think being positive, enjoying things, and communicating with people helps. But part of it’s health; sometimes you’re lucky, sometimes you’re not. That’s the way it is.

It’s up to the good Lord to decide when he wants you to go, and you go. I don’t want to go lying down thinking, “Oh, I wish I’d done that.” I want to go out saying, “Wow, that was a great ride!”

LeRoy Jackson makes a catch for an 85-yard touchdown against the Baltimore Colts on Dec. 8, 1962.

‘A Great Ride’

ACROSS THE CHANNEL

FROM CAEN TO CANADA

FAITH, FAMILY, FRATERNITY

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