Wojtek the Bear [paperback] (12 page)

One of the most famous pubs in Berwick is The Brown Bear, but it is not known if Wojtek ever visited it. It is a distinct possibility that he did because the Poles and Wojtek frequented any bar
or hotel which would serve them. It seems strange that in a town so populated by Wojtek lookalikes he hasn’t been commemorated with a plaque. Because of the times, few photographs were taken
but the stories remain of his participation in the revelries of the day. Over the decades the emblem and the actual bear have merged into one and legend has replaced fact.

But then Berwick’s history has always been pretty confusing. The ancient town of some 11,000 souls is situated on the border between Scotland and England and the town changed hands between
the two countries so many times that those drafting a peace accord to end the Crimean War with Russia couldn’t keep up. In 1856 Berwick was omitted from the Treaty of Paris, signed by Queen
Victoria. Thus, while the world has moved on, Berwick remains
technically at war with Russia. It would have been ironic if the Poles from Winfield Camp had found themselves
having to defend this little town against an ancient foe. Just for the record, Berwick is in England now, but cunningly still retains a foot in Scotland.

Picture the scene: it is late autumn in 1946 in the county of Berwickshire where hunting, shooting and fishing are a way of life. It is the open season for game hunting. From
the landed gentry in the big house to the farm labourer in his cottage, it is an abiding passion in an area rich in wildlife. A battered old military truck grinds its way along narrow country roads
and sitting beside the driver in the cabin is a giant bear, peering anxiously out of the side window. He is looking for village halls and whimpers with excitement every time he spots one of the
many small community halls dotted across the rural landscape. Wojtek is going to a dance.

For Wojtek, Scottish country dances were pretty much the highlight of the bear’s social calendar. Very quickly he came to associate dances with the small but distinctive buildings where
they were held. It wasn’t just the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd when he performed his party tricks, show-off that he was, that drew Wojtek to the dances, or the prospect
of making new friends, although that was always welcome. The attraction was the country dances’ home baking.

Quite simply, he loved home baking. It was right up there with his absolute all-time favourite treat, cinder toffee. These delicious homemade sweets are known in
the
Borders as puff candy. Added to the toffee mix are vinegar and bicarbonate of soda which, when baked in the oven, react together, frothing up to release millions of little bubbles into the mixture
before it sets. The candy then hardens into something that looks a lot like pumice stone, but tastes a great deal better. Cinder toffee was usually made by the mother of one of the Winfield Camp
cooks, and the mere scent of it would send Wojtek into paroxysms of delight. With his keen sense of smell, he could detect its presence over long distances.

For the soldiers of 22nd Company, the dances were a way of letting off steam and getting away from Winfield Camp for a few hours. Being fit, personable young men cooped up in the spartan
all-male environment of a DP camp pretty much in the middle of nowhere, they were not averse to meeting young women. And Saturday night is Saturday night.

They were always a well-groomed party when they set off for the evening’s entertainment. They may not have had much money but they did have style – and access to a professional camp
barber who at weekends was a very busy man. Although hairstyles were limited to military cuts, the soldiers liked to be smart. They varied their haircuts, allowing their hair to grow just a little
longer than regulation; more than a few shared a pot of Brylcreem, then much in vogue, and were very dapper. While carbolic soap was standard in the camp, the odd bar of perfumed soap was always
put aside for Saturday nights.

Despite postwar shortages and rationing, the villages of Gavinton, Foulden, Hutton, Paxton and Greenlaw still managed to provide a lively calendar of social events most weekends which brought
men and bear out on the prowl
for entertainment. Wojtek also visited Kelso and Duns – the latter being twinned with the town of Zagan in western Poland today. Duns also
has its own Polish war memorial.

Most dances held around Berwickshire in the postwar years were in village halls with outside toilets, no bar, and refreshments offered by the local Women’s Royal Voluntary Service (WRVS)
or the Scottish Women’s Rural Institute (SWRI). There were gigantic tea urns, fish-paste sandwiches, pies, home bakery by the yard, and Slipperene, a powder that was scattered over the
halls’ wooden floors to smooth the path of dancers, if not romancers. It might sound tame by today’s standards – no light shows, strobes or dry ice – but those apparently
sedate dances of the postwar years had every ingredient needed to excite lust, love, romance and even violence.

There was one other ingredient fuelling that lethal concoction: a smidgeon of alcohol, usually Polish. Irrespective of their lack of cash, the Border Poles seemed to have an inexhaustible supply
of vodka or Polish spirit, the latter being a beverage that could strip the enamel off your teeth. It is doubtful whether either spirit ever troubled the gaze of the local Customs and Excise
officers. Equally, at dances it was felt unnecessary to involve the fair sex in such male shenanigans. The young men – Polish or Scottish – would nip outside to imbibe their drinks,
unencumbered by any feminine disapproval. In that regard, there were no differences of nationality.

However, it would be less than accurate to say that there were no tensions between Scots and Poles at these dances. As a general rule, nobody minded until one of the Polish company took the
fancy of a local girl and a spurned local swain took exception. There would be a fight and anybody
from the local doctor to the police would intervene to break up the fray.
Inevitably, the two male admirers would be found to be a little the worse for drink, but swift measures were put in place to make sure the conflict was ended as quickly as possible. For the
authorities it was important that locals could feel safe around the Poles. In this regard Wojtek helped in that he was a distraction from tensions building up between the two nationalities. On the
whole, the dances helped more than they hindered in building relationships between Poles and Scots, but there was nothing could change the strutting, territorial claims of the indigenous youths
against the Polish interlopers, save time itself and hopefully the arrival of a more mature outlook.

Into this milieu Wojtek effortlessly inserted himself – usually, it has to be said, in close proximity to the home baking tables. He was quite shameless and given a whiff of encouragement
would lie on his back making sheep’s eyes at the women in charge of the provender.

A former cook at Winfield Camp, Mrs Denholm, said: ‘He loved pies. At the dances he would be on the floor with his minder Peter, who would tell him, ‘‘Don’t even think
about taking one of those pies.’’ Wojtek obeyed him but you could see the effort was killing him. And it would only last as long as Peter was watching. The bear was kept on a short
chain for these occasions.’

She added: ‘Not all the locals liked Wojtek. They were intimidated by his size. When the Poles turned up with him unannounced some folks would go out of the hall. But most people stayed.
At some dances, he would let children clamber all over him and they would ride on his back. It would never be allowed nowadays. However, these were
simpler times and there
weren’t any of today’s rules and regulations on public safety. Wherever the bear went, though, Peter was always with him to make sure everything was alright. One word from him and
Wojtek obeyed.’

One of Wojtek’s greatest loves was music; indeed, at country dances it was almost as big an attraction for him as food, which was saying something. Nowadays he would have been called a
groupie. He especially liked violin music. Violins and accordions have always been the musical instruments of choice in the Scottish Borders, and Wojtek enjoyed the toe-tapping reels, jigs and
strathspeys that got the dancers up on the floor. When the musicians started to play he used to bob up and down to the basic rhythm, then after a time he sat down to listen; it was a very odd
sight, a giant bear sitting upright on his bottom on the dance floor, his legs splayed apart to keep his balance. Usually there were mounds of crumbs in between his legs, the remnants of the many
treats he had managed to beg, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the band. He seemed transfixed by the music. That may very well have been a throwback to his early years, when in the wartime camps
the men would provide their own musical entertainment to while away their evenings. Being familiar with music from a young age, he must have sensed from the men that this was a pleasant and
enjoyable thing. Thus he eagerly placed himself in the dance halls at a spot where he could fully experience the performance, swaying in time to the beat.

Under the violins’ influence he became very calm and settled; indeed, on one dance outing he managed a nap half under the hall chairs which were placed against the walls. He was not
exactly a quiet sleeper, as his army colleagues would testify. While asleep, his grunts and snorts, with the
occasional wind release from either end, made him a less than
boon companion.

Outings were not confined to country dances. Wojtek also attended local opera and amateur dramatics performances. He often dozed off there too and his impromptu additions to the performances
were a great source of amusement to the locals, especially the children. But it would be safe to say that he was seldom invited back by the organisers of such events. Being upstaged by a farting
bear was just too much for any performer, professional or amateur, to tolerate.

However, Wojtek was not to be denied his entertainment. The Polish soldiers very quickly realised that Wojtek was a ‘babe magnet’ and took him everywhere they could. Within minutes
of him arriving in a hall, there would be a crowd of young women surrounding the bear, trying to pluck up the courage to stroke his soft fur and being urged on by the Polish soldiers, who would
take the arms of the prettiest girls and bring them forward to meet Wojtek close up. Other soldiers would show their ‘bravery’ by going up to him and giving him a kiss. A former camp
member, with a twinkle in his eye that belied his 82 years, recalled: ‘Whenever Wojtek was in the hall I always made sure I was standing right beside him. That way I was sure to meet all the
girls.’

As a safety precaution, Wojtek wore a light chain when attending civilian functions. At first a neck restraint had been employed, but after gorging himself on fruits and vegetables one
particularly fine summer he became too fat for it. His mentor Peter then introduced a leather-lined steel hoop which was fastened to his left hind leg to keep him in check on public outings. When
it was first used
Wojtek grumbled about the restraint and threw an almighty sulk but eventually came to terms with it. At Winfield Camp it was only used when he bunked down
overnight in his quarters and occasionally during the day when Peter was off on military duties. For the most part, as long as someone was supervising, Wojtek was allowed to wander freely around
the camp.

Living on a farm, Wojtek was surrounded by livestock in the nearby fields, prime targets for a wild bear, but there is no recorded case of Wojtek succumbing to the lure of the chase at Winfield
Camp. He did, however, like to stalk sheep. Creeping along the hedgerows of a field where they were, when he was close enough, he thought it a great joke to leap out and watch them scatter in all
directions. But he never pursued them further. Peter would scold him vigorously and Wojtek would take his telling off like . . . well, a bear, covering his face in mock submission with his paws
before risking a peep up at Peter to see if his mentor’s simulated anger had subsided. It was very much a case of who was kidding who. But the incidents could have been more serious if they
had happened in lambing season when sheep upset by his antics might have aborted in fright. In the lambing season – indeed, most of the year – farmers had carte blanche to shoot any
strange dog they saw in the field with their flocks, no questions asked. Sheep worrying is regarded very seriously indeed by farmers and at the sight of an unfamiliar animal in close proximity to
their sheep, out would come the shotguns. Would they have shot Wojtek? Perhaps not, but any restraint would not have been for any sentimental reasons. It would simply have been because they
didn’t have farm weapons of a heavy enough calibre.

At Winfield Camp Wojtek’s very presence, as he ambled around, a free spirit, lifted the hearts of many men. In those early months, morale was still high and the
Poles weren’t above roping Wojtek into a joke that they played on their hosts. It was a hoax which quickly passed into camp legend.

As part of the Polish resettlement training programme, a three-man army assessment team had been seconded to Winfield Camp. Their job was to establish precisely what skills, linguistic or
otherwise, the Poles had and to establish training sessions for them. Alongside a sergeant and a lieutenant was a man called Archie Brown.

Archie Brown, who recently died in his nineties, hailed from Boroughmuir, Edinburgh. At the age of 22 he volunteered for service with the Royal Artillery before transferring to the Royal
Signals. Like the Poles at Winfield Camp, Archie had seen action at Monte Cassino as well as the war’s other military hot spots – El Alamein and Malta. Because of their shared
experience of Monte Cassino he had a lot of respect for the Polish troops. They in turn liked him.

One by one the camp’s soldiers were ushered in to the team’s office for their interviews to establish how well they spoke English and to be quizzed about their family circumstances
and any skills they had which would aid them in applying for civilian jobs. The sergeant and lieutenant steadily ploughed through the list. As the last soldier departed, Archie came in and informed
his superiors that the Poles had told him there was one more serviceman left to see and that, if the interview panel waited for a minute or two, they would bring him along – a Corporal
Wojtek.