Wojtek the Bear [paperback] (11 page)

The River Tweed was actually only a few yards away from Winfield Camp, across a field, down a narrow road and through a wood to Wojtek’s favourite picnic area
behind
Paxton House. However, with trees reaching right to the river’s edge the spot didn’t offer the men the room they needed to control Wojtek and his insatiable curiosity. When away from
the camp he thought he was back on a march and, although on a chain, he still needed to be kept on open ground.

Getting Wojtek to a suitable bathing spot required transport by lorry along with his swimming apparel and makeshift toys. An outing on the Tweed was not a weekly event for Wojtek but a special
treat, so the bear made the most of it, floating on his back, paddling and swimming, and sometimes diving underwater for such lengthy periods that his friends on the river bank thought he’d
come to grief. Then up he would pop, to the relief of everyone.

The preferred spot for his river outings was under the Union Bridge, a fairly unknown, but stunningly beautiful bridge so named because it links Scotland with England. Built in 1820, it is the
oldest suspension bridge in Britain still in use. It joins Scotland and England from Fishwick to Horncliffe. The river is extremely wide at this point, with low banks that make access easy for
bathers. The grounds of nearby Paxton House, dotted with wild flowers, sweep down to the bridge through a canopy of trees, making it a truly idyllic spot even today.

Wojtek quickly got to know the routine for his dip in the Tweed, which involved him being accompanied by a full squad of soldiers. First, an extremely lengthy metal chain was attached to his leg
iron. The restraint was heavy, but didn’t seem to hamper the enormously strong bear, as he plunged joyously into the water. Although great fun, the outing could be something of a testing
occasion for the men as, once in the water, he was always very reluctant to
come out. When he was supposed to come back to the river bank the men would haul on the chain to
bring him in. Gleefully he would turn it into a tug of war. The bear knew that eventually at least six men would be forced to enter the water and tackle him, mob-handed, to float him back to the
bank. Wojtek never really left the water until he was ready. Taking his final ‘revenge’, he would suddenly sprint from the water when he reached the shallows. Heading straight at the
men he would shower them with water, shaking and rolling. The men flew in all directions to escape a heavy soaking. Meanwhile Wojtek would look around with immense satisfaction at the chaos he had
caused. If his fun was to be cut short, he reasoned, he would have the last laugh. No matter how often this pantomime was rerun, the proceedings always took the same course – with Wojtek
winning paws down.

Wojtek wasn’t permitted to go to the River Tweed unaccompanied. It was one of only two places permanently out of bounds to him in his remarkably free existence in the Berwickshire
countryside. The other ‘no go’ area was Winfield airfield.

Situated a mere quarter of a mile from Winfield Camp, Winfield airfield became fully operational in May 1942. The story of its requisition from the farm of the same name by the RAF in March 1941
is worth telling.

While having their lunch one day, Mr and Mrs Fleming looked out of their window to see a conglomeration of military vehicles beside one of their fields and scores of personnel milling around.
They were still puzzling over the unusual activity when there was a brisk knock on the door. Standing there was a military official. He took requisition papers out of his briefcase and told the
couple: ‘You have
24 hours to pack up and leave. Your home and your land are needed by the RAF.’ The Fleming family – today safely back in their farmhouse
– still have the wartime requisition orders.

During the war years Winfield airfield was in constant use, day and night, as an RAF training ground. Working in tandem with its larger sister, Charterhall airfield, it was top secret and
security-conscious. With chronic shortages of aircraft available to promote the war and defend the UK, its young airmen were required to train as pilots and navigators on obsolete and
difficult-to-handle early versions of Blenheims, Beaufighters and Beauforts. Accelerated intensive-training programmes and extremely dangerous night flying meant that the attrition rate was pretty
high. Barely a month passed without at least one training fatality. In their first eight months of operations Winfield and Charterhall training aircraft were involved in a total of 97 crashes, many
of them fatal. Indeed, Charterhall was nicknamed ‘Slaughterhall’ by airmen.

Air force historian Jack (J.B.) Thompson, in his book
The Charterhall Story
, commented on the lack of dedicated emergency resources for Winfield: ‘Help came in many forms. Observer
Corps posts plotted crash positions and bren gun carriers and other tracked army vehicles seemed to appear like magic to transport medical staff and rescue crews over difficult terrain. The
benefactors were members of the locally based Polish armoured brigade who always seemed to anticipate the need for their services. Often they would stay on to help in the rescue or subsequent
recovery of the aircraft. A serving member of the Charterhall medical team still wonders today just how they always came to be waiting for them on the road nearest to the crash.’

The alacrity with which Polish servicemen responded to flying emergencies was due in part to the fact that they knew their countrymen in 303 Squadron were often based at
Charterhall with their Mosquito fighter planes.

Following the cessation of hostilities, Winfield airfield was still in regular use before being allocated to the US air force in 1950. Winfield airfield in the mid-1950s reverted to the UK and
in later years was used by the Border Reivers Flying Group. It was also used for special one-off exercises by the RAF right up until the 1970s.

In the autumn of 1946, when Wojtek arrived at Winfield Camp, the prospect of young pilots encountering a bear on their air strip was unthinkable, so a strict ‘off limits’ policy was
imposed by Peter. The men understood that if Wojtek strayed into sensitive areas like the airfield there was a real possibility he would be shot.

There is no record of him ever breaching that stricture, nor did he ever stage a solo swimming expedition despite the fact that, with his keen sense of smell, he would have been constantly aware
of the River Tweed virtually on his doorstep and the rivers Whiteadder and Blackadder on the other side of the camp less than a mile away.

The ban on Wojtek’s unsupervised swimming in the River Tweed arose, in part, because the sea was close enough for the waters to be tidal and subject to strong undertows and currents. While
it was unlikely that Wojtek, who was an excellent swimmer, would ever get into difficulties, Peter didn’t want him floating down river. He was a bear with a marked sense of curiosity, and the
urge to explore new territory would have been irresistible. Thus Wojtek was always on a long chain as he happily floated on his back in the broad expanse of swift-flowing
water that marked the boundary between Scotland and England. Wojtek couldn’t have cared less about the ban on solo outings. He was in bear heaven.

Only a few yards away from Wojtek’s special swimming place is now the Chain Bridge Honey Farm. Had he survived to see it open he would have been beside himself with excitement –
honey was one of his favourite treats.

The lush greenery of Berwickshire was a far cry from the deserts of the Middle East where Wojtek first indulged his passion for water and thorough soakings in the shower cubicles of ablutions
huts. But, as ever, his companions put themselves out to ensure he got plenty of swimming. It was as if he was some sort of Svengali who travelled around the world bending his friends’ wills
to provide him with all the aquatic enjoyment he needed in his life.

The men pandered to Wojtek’s enthusiasm for water sports at Winfield Camp too. They made him a crude outdoor swimming pool from a concrete storage tank. The concrete pool had large metal
stairs down which he would descend and swim to his heart’s content. Unlike most bears, Wojtek didn’t just jump in; he would turn around like a human, grip the guardrails and descend
backwards into the water, just as most bathers do. His great pleasure showed as he floated and splashed around, flicking cascades of water onto the men. They were not averse to returning the
compliment in noisy water fights that all parties greatly enjoyed.

One minor problem was that the makeshift bathing pool was not secure. The tank had high open rails around it which meant that, if the notion took him, Wojtek could
easily
climb over them and escape from the pool. True to form, Wojtek turned this into a new type of game and, unknown to the authorities, his ‘escapes’ happened quite a lot. For the bear, it
was all part of the fun: the more he created diversions and outwitted his companions, the more attention he got. His mock flights down the field usually ended in a running battle of wits with the
men detailed to look after him. They were all extremely fit, and over longer distances could usually outrun him, possibly because the bear let them. When capture seemed imminent, Wojtek would stop
and do a swift about-turn. He would head back to the swimming pool and then suddenly stop to shake himself, drenching his pursuers. Then he would clamber up over the railing and dive back in the
pool. Once that was accomplished he would grab the floating tyre that he used as an aquatic toy and mock the soldiers by bouncing and bobbing around the edges. It was a glorified game of water
‘tig’ and he never tired of it.

Swimming was most certainly one of Wojtek’s greatest pleasures; the old concrete storage tank and the River Tweed were both superb for a large bear. He liked to include everyone in his
frolics and some of these happy times were captured in photographs which show the incredible affection his companions had for him, and he for them.

Once the aquatic gambols were over, Wojtek did everything he could to dry himself quickly. This even included climbing trees to let the breeze ripple through his fur, creating a wind-blown look.
He looked a lot smaller when wet, with his fur plastered to his body, but as it dried his coat fluffed up in the sun and wind, transforming him into a huge, fluffy teddy bear.

One question arises: why did Wojtek, when swimming in the Tweed, never indulge in an orgy of salmon hunting as his grizzly cousins undoubtedly would have? Perhaps the
answer lies in two directions: one, he had never been taught how to fish; two, his hunting instinct was not as highly developed as it would have been in the wild because food came fairly easily to
him. The salmon can count themselves lucky he was more interested in being a soldier than a bear.

The men also took Wojtek to the shore at Berwick, for romps in the sea. This he loved too because of its unconfined waters. He would dash through the freezing waves and hurl himself with great
abandon at the larger ones which swept over his head. Although he was a bear who hated being cold, he seemed impervious to the rigours of sea-bathing which, in Scotland, is not for the fainthearted
at any time of the year.

As well as visiting the beaches of Berwick, Wojtek and his handlers regularly went to the town of Berwick itself. Only six miles from Winfield Camp, for fit young men itching for entertainment
Berwick was something of a magnet. Like frontier towns the world over, it was an exciting place. After the war it was still filled with servicemen of all nationalities on the lookout for girls and
a good time. There were fist-fights galore and lots of rowdy horseplay. The demon drink had its part to play, of course.

When Wojtek came to party with his friends in Berwick, he always caused a sensation. It should be remembered that this was an era starved of entertainment as we know it today. There was hardly
any TV (very few people had the primitive black-and-white sets), no iPods, no Internet, no shopping malls, no indoor sports halls and precious little in
the way of organised
sport or dances. However, with its abundance of pubs and hotels it is hardly surprising that, with his fondness for alcohol, there were times in Berwick when the bear grossly exceeded his quota of
two bottles of beer on any one day.

One night, when the Poles came to town, Wojtek found himself the star of the show as usual. He quickly attracted crowds of well-wishers, quite a few of whom wanted to buy him and his Polish
minders a drink. Partying at the now-defunct Berwick Arms Hotel things rapidly got out of hand. The men had congregated outside the hotel entrance with the bear and were engaged in a very rowdy and
boisterous social gathering. By this time Wojtek had consumed countless bottles of beer, as had the Poles, and all were drunk. A Polish officer appeared on the scene to find a group of drunken
soldiers with an inebriated bear. None of the Poles were worried by Wojtek being the worse for wear, indeed they were claiming the bear had said his first words that evening when he let out an
enormous beer burp! Unfortunately, the officer did not share the joke, and the men were immediately ordered back to camp. Wojtek, like his comrades, suffered a gigantic hangover the next day and
things were pretty quiet for most of the week at Winfield Camp as Wojtek’s companions served their punishment. Although all were confined to camp for some time afterwards, the incident was
eventually forgotten and men and bear were permitted to return to both Berwick town and the Berwick Arms.

Wojtek’s regular trips to Berwick were to hopelessly confuse matters concerning the town’s semi-official emblem, known to locals as the Berwick Bear, a confusion that exists to this
day. Anyone visiting the town is confronted by
a profusion of images of the Berwick Bear on plaques, public buildings, websites and even on town council stationery. Many
people think it is a reference to Wojtek, but it is not. Although the origins of the Berwick Bear are unknown, it certainly predates him by many years.

Puzzlingly, Berwick’s town crest, an official heraldic device, features in its background a bear. Again its origin is a mystery. The accepted explanation is that the crest’s
designers introduced the bear as a sort of visual pun. By combining it with a Wych Elm, also displayed in the crest, people arrive at an approximation of the name of the town, Berwick. This sounds
somewhat convoluted considering the full name of the town is Berwick upon Tweed.