British army veteran Bill Gladden, who survived a perilous glider landing on D-Day and a near-fatal bullet wound to his ankle just days later, has passed away at the age of 100. Despite his weakened health, Gladden had hoped to return to Normandy for the 80th anniversary of the invasion to honor the memory of his fallen comrades.
Born on January 13, 1924, Gladden grew up in southeast London. He joined the army at the age of 18 and was eventually assigned to the 6th Airborne Reconnaissance Regiment as a motorcycle dispatch rider.
On D-Day, June 6, 1944, Gladden landed behind enemy lines in a wooden glider filled with motorcycles and a heavy tank. His unit’s mission was to secure bridges over the River Orne and Caen Canal for Allied forces advancing inland from the beaches.
Based in an orchard near the village of Ranville, Gladden spent the next 12 days conducting reconnaissance missions. On June 16, he carried two wounded soldiers to a makeshift field hospital in a nearby barn. Two days later, he found himself in the same hospital after machine gun fire from a German tank shattered his right ankle.
Despite the severity of his wound, Gladden managed to avoid amputation. However, he spent the next three years in the hospital undergoing multiple surgeries, including tendon transplants, skin grafts, and bone grafts.
After the war, Gladden married Marie Warne, an army driver he had met in 1943. He worked for Siemens and Pearl Insurance for 40 years before retiring.
Over the years, Gladden regularly joined other veterans on trips to battlefields in Normandy and the Netherlands organized by the Taxi Charity for Military Veterans. He was known for his gentle voice and his love of singing wartime songs.
Despite his own harrowing experiences, Gladden preferred to focus on the sacrifices made by his comrades. He kept a scrapbook filled with wartime memorabilia, including a newspaper clipping about the gliders used on D-Day, drawings of the landings, and a piece of parachute silk left behind by one of the paratroopers who landed in the orchard at Ranville.
As he lay in the hospital recovering from his wounds, Gladden painstakingly stitched his unit’s shoulder insignia into the parachute silk. The insignia featured the words “Royal Armoured Corps” and a silhouette of Pegasus, the flying horse, over the word “Airborne.”
Even as he celebrated his 100th birthday in January, Gladden’s thoughts were on returning to Normandy to honor his fallen comrades.
“He wanted to go to pay his respects,” said his niece’s husband, Alan Thorpe. “I’d like to think he’s with them now. And that he’s paying his respects in person.”
Gladden’s passing marks a poignant reminder of the dwindling number of veterans who fought in World War II and the importance of preserving their stories for future generations.
