by Orr, Aileen;
Indeed, on many of their trips inland Wojtek preferred to sit alone in the cab, awaiting the men’s return from whatever duties they were carrying out, just as he had done in the Middle East. Given the immense shortages of goods in both theatres of war, it was not surprising that petty theft was rife, indeed raised almost to a national art form, so Wojtek’s presence acted as a formidable deterrent. Nothing was ever stolen from Wojtek’s truck when he was in residence.
While 22nd Company was kept busy loading and unloading goods at docks along the coast, there was a more leisurely pace to life and everyone made the most of it. In September 1946 they finally set sail for Glasgow from Naples. This time Private Wojtek was officially listed on the passenger manifest. As on his first sea crossing, from Egypt to Italy, Wojtek once again found himself the centre of attention and his wrestling matches with his companions were very much the highlight of the voyage. That was the lighter side of military life, and a much-needed distraction. In truth, the men and Wojtek had no idea of what lay ahead for them in Scotland, a country about which they knew virtually nothing.
6
Rationing . . . and a Bear Who Needs 300 Apples a Day
When Wojtek proudly marched through Glasgow with the veterans of 22nd Company, Polish Army Service Corps (Artillery), to the cheers of the crowds lining the streets, it must have seemed to the Polish troops that September 1946 was a special month. For the first time they felt they were genuinely entering a period of new beginnings. While it was gratifying to be hailed by Glasgow citizens as the heroes of Monte Cassino – which they indubitably were – they were more interested in winning the peace than winning the battle.
It was a time when the future stretching out in front of the newcomers seemed filled with both optimism and hope: optimism that they would soon be reunited with their loved ones; hope that they would be able to pick up the threads of their disrupted lives and create a new and secure future for themselves and their families.
They arrived in Scotland the same month that the UK set up the Polish Resettlement Corps (PRC), a noncombatant unit of the British army. Its initial purpose was to help Polish troops to retrain for civilian life in Britain. Over a maximum period of two years, those who became members of the PRC were to be housed in camps across the UK. There they would learn English and a trade before being permitted to seek employment. The PRC was also to be used as a clearing house to help repatriate the Poles. The men of 2nd Corps – including 22nd Company – were the very first troops to be encouraged to participate in the new resettlement programme, and many of those stationed at Winfield Camp did.
The men of 2nd Corps were pulled out of Italy and transported to Britain to accommodate the demands of Stalin. The Soviets had no wish to have a standing army of some 250,000 Poles in mainland Europe, most of whom had a deep hatred of Communist Russia for all the cruelties it had inflicted on their nation. Polish troops in the West were still serving under British operational command, but even so, 2nd Corps’ presence in Italy represented a destabilising influence in the mind of the ever-suspicious Stalin. He had no wish to see them return to their homeland.
Following the conference of the major powers at Potsdam in 1945, on the basis of his bare-faced lie that he later would permit free Polish elections, Stalin gained control of Poland. But it was really fait accompli even before the conference. He wanted nothing to threaten that arrangement.
When the conference set the country’s new postwar boundaries, Poland was required to cede part of its territory to Russia while gaining a section of Germany. But that was a mere fig leaf. The British government was forced to derecognize Poland’s government-in-exile, based in London, saying its members would have to return to Poland to participate in the new elections when they came. However, Stalin had already established an interim government, known as the Polish Committee of National Liberation, that was a vassal of the Soviet Union. As his iron grip on the country tightened, the process of weeding out ‘undesirables’ and installing placemen to run the oppressive state apparatus was already well under way.
Marching along the Broomielaw in Glasgow, the men of 22nd Company had little or no knowledge of these political machinations. They also knew very little of what had actually happened to their country during the later stages of the war – except that it was very bad. Nevertheless, as they arrived in Scotland, morale was high.
In part, that was due to the lengthy period of rest and recuperation they had had in Italy. On the sunny Adriatic coast, since the war’s end, the company had enjoyed the warm climate and an abundance of soft fruits and vegetables. Alas, a rude shock awaited both men and bear after they disembarked from their troop ship in Glasgow. There was to be no easy transition into a civilian existence and they also found themselves domiciled in an austere Scotland where food rationing was a way of life.
In Scotland the food allowance each person had to get by on at that time included the following: 2 ounces of bacon or ham, a finger of cheese (1.5 ounces), 7 ounces of butter or margarine, 2 ounces of cooking fats, 8 ounces of sugar, 2 ounces of tea (about 20 teabags), 4 ounces of sweets and 1 shilling’s-worth (5p) of meat. It doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Except this wasn’t a day’s ration – it was for one full week. Except for the bacon. That was two weeks’ allowance. Other staples such as bread, bananas and even potatoes (throughout 1947) were also rationed. As for fresh eggs, you could have one a fortnight – if you could lay your hands on one. Most urban families made do with the vile-tasting powdered version for the skimpy amounts of baking they could eke out of their precious rations of flour and sugar. On the plus side, people were allowed three pints of milk a week.
In fact, milk was just about the only commodity with which the Attlee government was generous; as part of its drive to maintain the nutritional health of the country’s children, in 1946 free school milk was introduced for all pupils up to the age of 18. This was later reduced to primary schools only. A quarter of a century later, free school milk was finally phased out by Margaret Thatcher. She was dubbed Thatcher the Milk Snatcher by her political opponents.
Those of us of a certain age well remember the crates of one-third-of-a-pint bottles which had to be humped in from the playground into the classrooms. For some unfathomable reason, once indoors, the crates always seemed to be stacked next to the school radiators, ensuring the milk was lukewarm by the time it was dispensed. It is one of life’s ironies that, despite food shortages and rationing, the children of postwar Scotland were better fed than many of their modern counterparts. That, in large part, was down to the free milk ration and free school meals (about half the UK’s pupils qualified for them), plus daily doses of free cod liver oil and concentrated orange juice which mothers determinedly rammed down the throats of protesting offspring.
However, Wojtek, when it came to rations in austerity Scotland, broke the mould. Clearance for his registration as a private in the Polish army had come through on St Valentine’s Day, 1945. As he was now formally on the books, the company could indent for provisions for him. But as he required an intake of around 20,000 calories a day – the equivalent of around 300 apples or, say, 60 hamburgers – keeping him well fed was quite a challenge.
Like his brown-bear brothers in Iran, Wojtek always beefed up considerably in the autumn, putting on as much as 1.5 pounds in weight per day if the feeding was particularly good, as it had been in Italy. Most bears, whether they hibernate or not (and Wojtek didn’t), spend up to 16 hours a day – virtually all their waking hours – foraging.
In passing, hibernation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be – many breeds of bear burn up almost the same energy when asleep as they do awake. Their metabolic rate doesn’t drop significantly. If Wojtek had been back in the Zagros Mountains he probably would have hibernated, or perhaps more accurately, remained semi-dormant in his lair. However, he didn’t because he was being fed on a daily basis, and, probably more significantly, his comrades didn’t hibernate. In virtually all respects, Wojtek considered himself no d
ifferent from human beings.
Fortunately for 22nd Company, Wojtek wasn’t fussy about what he ate, as long as there was plenty of it. Like his breed, he was omnivorous; he would eat almost any type of food including carrion, fish, birds, meat, grasses, fruit, root vegetables, fibrous roots, wild berries, broad-leaved plants and shrubs, tree leaves, and, when he could get them, grubs, ants and honey. In the ground, on the ground or above the ground, it really didn’t matter: Wojtek was up for eating it, although his first port of call was always the camp cookhouse.
About 80 per cent of his diet was vegetarian. In their transit camp, before they moved to the Borders, it cannot always have been easy for the soldiers to ensure their comrade was getting the 40 to 80 pounds of vegetable fodder he required daily. When the company moved to its new home, Winfield Camp, it still remained a considerable challenge for them until country folk started dropping in at the camp with scraps for the bear. As for Wojtek, he quickly adapted to Borders life, foraging for leaves and plants until there was hardly any greenery left on the trees and bushes in the immediate vicinity of the camp.
Although a very clean bear, his eating habits were quite childlike. First he would pick out the items of food he really liked, leaving to last the less interesting fodder. Although far away from his native nectarines, apricots and other exotic fruits, his diet was as good as any in the district. He received many gifts of food from visitors. He had a keen nose for any crumbs which might be lingering in a pocket or a handbag, so there were often raids on unsuspecting visitors’ clothing and property. Though he received severe reprimands for his attempted thefts, the temptation was always there and he would nearly always succumb to it.
At the camp, special sleeping quarters for Wojtek were built: a small wooden hut which the men speedily knocked up for him and lined with straw. From his new home there was much for the bear to see. The prickly Scottish blackthorn hedges nearby were a new phenomenon for Wojtek, and he soon learned they offered considerable entertainment from the wildlife which inhabited them. He would stare at the hedges for hours, watching birds hop around inside them. Occasionally rabbits and hares passed through, as did the odd fox. From time to time sheep would become entangled in them and cattle would come along to eat the long grasses beside the hedge boundaries. Since his hut was situated between two hedges he had a great view of the local wildlife. For an easily bored bear this must have been the equivalent of watching TV.
Wojtek was especially good at being still if he had to be. He would flatten himself on the ground, watching and listening. When the sparrows became too cocky, too noisy and, most crucially, too close, suddenly a furry apparition would rise up and pounce, with little thought of the consequences other than satisfying a deep call from the wild. The process would be repeated many times, much to the detriment of the hedges. Eventually they died a slow but natural death because of his depredations and fences had to be erected. The wildlife show was over. However, new forms of entertainment were eventually found and, besides, there were always the hedges on the other side of the road.
Long before the hedges vanished, Wojtek had his own scouting methods down pat. Perched up a tree, he would scan the camp entrance for any interesting developments. From his vantage point, Wojtek had an uncanny knack of identifying visitors who were arriving at Winfield Camp with food. Actually, it was not his sight, which like that of all bears was poor, but his acute sense of smell which resulted in him making a swift descent from his tree to swoop upon the newcomer.
For those who knew Wojtek, the enthusiastic welcome they received was not unexpected. He would rear to his full height, wave his paws about and perform a quick roll of submission on the ground before bounding towards them. Often the locals were bringing commodities like jam, eggs and honey to the camp, but Wojtek knew there was always a treat set aside for him. He very quickly came to recognise the faces of those regularly bringing food to the camp as opposed to visitors calling in for a chat. From the latter he could expect, at best, a cigarette or the occasional boiled sweet. These treats were welcome, but not in the same league as the goodies provided by the other callers.
Despite his awe-inspiring stature, Wojtek was a gentle giant. He liked to touch and be touched, a wondrously strange thing for a beast which, in the wild, was both solitary and dangerous. He had a fascination for people’s eyes and ears and, for those brave enough to let him, he liked to touch their faces. He had a delicacy of touch which was surprising in such a large beast. With a sharp, six-inch claw he could push a tiny black beetle along the ground without hurting it, playing and toying with it for ages until either he got bored with his game or the insect discovered a bolthole and escaped.
Wojtek also liked to be groomed, especially around the back of his head and ears, which he found difficult to reach without aid of a stick. For an urgent itch, a tree or a fence would do the trick and he would vigorously rub himself against these scratching posts until it subsided. It wasn’t too long before the trees around Sunwick Farm bore the permanent scars of his activities, their bark ripped and scored by his claws through a mixture of climbing and scratching. Quite a few were killed off. No one ever complained.
It was on Monday, 28 October 1946, that Wojtek and his companions first arrived at Winfield Camp and, as seasoned campaigners of such moves, rapidly settled in – Wojtek to his special hut and his comrades to their Nissen huts.
It was hardly gracious living. The men slept 30 to a hut, dormitory-style, in beds arranged against the walls of their barracks. With roofs and walls of corrugated iron, cold concrete floors and thin-paned, small, draughty windows, Nissen huts were poorly insulated. Each hut was heated by a wood- and coal-burning pipe stove. Situated, as these were, either in the centre or at one end of the hut, the stoves had to be stoked until they were red-hot if they were to keep out the penetrating night chill. Even then the heat barely reached a few feet down the length of the hut before it evaporated. In winter, the huts were freezing.
The winter of 1946–47 was one of the harshest on record, with temperatures plummeting to well below freezing. In parts of the country snow drifts reached heights of 23 feet and even the English Channel occasionally became impassable because of pack ice as the temperature dropped to –23ºC. The intense cold led to the authorities’ allocating extra coal to Winfield Camp, but the combination of the low temperatures outside and the frost gathering inside the corrugated-iron interior roof meant the warmer the hut became, the more the frost melted and dripped onto the beds below. This was a source of hilarity among the men at first, but long nights of dripping water and constant dampness were really no laughing matter. After many sleepless nights tempers became frayed as they sought vainly to get some rest. Their conditions were miserable. The only relief came when the drips refroze to become small icicles dotted all along the curved sides of their inadequate shelters. The huts’ wooden doors posed another problem. Made from poorly cured wood, the constant damp caused them to swell, making them stick every time they were opened and closed.
Wojtek, however, had no such problems curling up in his straw and doing what bears do best – sleep. With a fur coat to rival anything from the purveyors of fine pelts, he had a definite advantage over his comrades when it came to bedding down in any situation.
On the plus side, the extreme weather created new work opportunities for the Poles, who were needed for road clearing and assisting locals with the delivery of food supplies and coal; the weather crisis added new purpose to their lives. It comes as no surprise that these fit young men enjoyed showing off their prowess in wielding shovels and brushes alongside their Scottish neighbours. The whole community came out to help, but the Poles enjoyed their role as snow heroes and often posed for the occasional photograph.
It has to be remembered that home comforts weren’t much different for the local populace. Central heating and double glazing were decades away from everyday use. Apart from special occasions when the parlour fire was lit, most people’s homes had only a single room that wa
s heated – usually the kitchen. Stepping out of the warmth of the kitchen onto the hallway linoleum was like stepping out onto ice. Bedrooms were like iceboxes too. As a girl I regularly got up in the morning to find the windows completely opaque with the delicate traceries of heavy frost. To be honest, in the Borders we thought nothing of it. For men who had recently experienced searing desert heat followed by the more comfortable warmth of a Mediterranean climate, it must have taken a bit of getting used to.
Still, it was autumn when Wojtek and the men of 22nd Company arrived at Winfield Camp and as yet the rigours of a Borders winter, and all that it entailed, were a few months off. Wojtek liked his new habitat and was quick to explore its environs, tasting and eating new types of vegetation that he hadn’t previously encountered. He was completely invigorated by the change of locale and energetically joined in the men’s tasks, such as collecting and breaking firewood for the cookhouse. There are no prizes for guessing the wages he demanded for his labours.
The 22nd Company shared Winfield Camp with other detachments of Poles who had never met Wojtek. Mindful of the incident in Italy when the bear had almost got himself shot by straying into a tent full of strangers in the middle of the night, Peter Prendys took the precaution of chaining him up when he wasn’t around. Wojtek was now always chained up overnight and occasionally during the day when there was no one to keep an eye on him. When his regular minders were around, however, he still had the run of the camp, and would go strolling round the Nissen huts to greet his friends.