Moveover, Paddington!
He had a taste for vodka, adored wrestling with his army buddies – and his heroics in battle earned him the devotion of the Allies. Now the makers of The Snowman are set to tell his heartmelting story
ACrOSS the road from the newsagents in the small market town of Duns in the Scottish Borders stands a huge statue of a bear carrying an artillery shell. Flowers almost always are placed in the bear’s hands and every few weeks he is cleaned from top to toe by volunteers.
Tourists and passers -by on their way to Edinburgh or the Highlands no doubt look at the statue with bemusement, thinking it another British quirk involving unsuitable pets — this one with razor-sharp teeth and claws.
But to the people of Duns, the statue of Wojtek, the bear who fought valiantly in World War II and retired to Berwickshire, is a powerful reminder of a brave and loyal ‘soldier’ whose extraordinary story will soon be given the full cinematic treatment it deserves.
The renowned animator Iain Harvey — who was executive producer on the 1982 TV adaptation of raymond Briggs’s Oscar -nominated tear-jerker, The Snowman — is planning a film called A Bear Named Wojtek, which he hopes to release in time for the 75th anniversary of VE Day on May 8, 2020. Hankies at the ready.
‘It’s fantastic to have a piece of magic that’s real,’ said Mr Harvey , who, like many others before him, had assumed that the life and times of Wojtek was ‘pure fantasy’.
He can be forgiven for dismissing Wojtek so easily.
After all, you don’t hear of many 6ft bears, weighing in at around 35 stone, with a taste for beer , vodka, Woodbine cigarettes and bouts of wres - tling with their human buddies.
But, then, P rivate Wojtek — who was raised to the rank of corporal shortly before his death in 1963 — was no ordinary Ursus Arctos Syriacus (Syrian brown bear), a relatively small sub-species native to the Middle East.
Born near the Iran-Iraq border in early 1942 but orphaned while still a tiny cub, Wojtek was found abandoned by a young shepherd boy.
Some weeks later , the boy came across the 2nd Polish Corps who had made their way to Iran after they had been released from the slave camps of Siberia following the Soviet invasion of German-held East Poland in 1939.
The boy sold Wojtek, hidden within a small wriggling bag, to a lieutenant called Anatol, for some local currency, a chocolate bar and a Swiss Army knife. He was then given to a young soldier called Pyotr (Peter in English) to look after.
Peter fed the cub with condensed milk from an old vodka bottle and kept him in his quarters. But soon W ojtek (as the soldiers named him, mean - ing ‘ he who is happy to battle’) became a central part of life in the camp.
He seemed to pick up P olish instructions quickly and was taught to salute when greeted by a senior officer.
The soldiers enjoyed his company and Wojtek returned the compli - ment, albeit causing a certain amount of mayhem. Whenever the men put out their clothes to dry , Wojtek would steal the garments, whirling them around his head in triumph as if it was a game just for his benefit.
But he also came in handy as a security guard. One night, an Arab spy broke into the camp and was about to make off with weapons stored in the bath house when he came across Wojtek taking his daily shower.
The terrified man froze on the spot and was then cap - tured. When the time came for the Polish troops to join the Allies in North Africa prior to their posting in Italy alongside the British 8th Army in 1944, it was decided that W ojtek would go too.
But pets were forbidden to accompany the army during fighting , and the only way to provide him with rations and transport was by enlisting him officially as a soldier in the 2nd Polish Corps, serving with the 22nd Artillery Supply Company.
And so Wojtek was given his own paybook, rank and serial number and lived with his fellow men in tents, or in a special wooden crate when on the move.
It w as a t the Battle of Monte Cassino between January and May 1944 that Wojtek won the greatest affection from his fellow soldiers — and made it inevitable that he would one day become a screen star.
THE role of Wojtek’s transport corps was to carry 100lb crates of artillery shells from lorries to an advanced battery position. All day, Wojtek copied his comrades, padding backwards and forwards with the crates, piling them as high as he could — without dropping a single one. Monte Cassino was a decisive battle and one of the bloodiest. Allied troops launched four assaults against the Nazi and Italian-held line, the last of which involved 20 divisions attacking long a 20-mile front. Eventually, the German stronghold was defeated but at a high cost. Some 55,000 allied soldiers died, compared with 20,000 German casualties. But Wojtek’s actions were invaluable, and from that day forward, the depiction of a bear carrying an artillery shell became the official emblem of the 22nd Company. The statue, which was erected in Duns two years ago, ‘is a fit - ting reminder of the close connection between P oland and Scotland’, says Lady McEwen, who lives near Duns and chairs a twinning association with the P olish town of Zagan. ‘Their soldiers, sailors and airmen fought alongside our own and their motto was “for our freedom and yours”.’ After the war , many P oles — unable and reluctant to return to their own country with Stalin in
control — settled in Scotland, among them the 22nd Transport Corps, who came to Berwickshire. Wojtek was one of them — but not before leading a victory parade down Edinburgh’s Princes Street.
‘I remember as a four-year- old boy being taken to see Wojtek,’ says John McEwen, the arts writer and brother- in- law of Lady McEwen. ‘He was standing on his hind legs and he quaffed a bottle or two of his favourite beer. He also enjoyed playing with lit cigarettes. I know he was amiable but he looked ferocious.’
Accustomed to life at Winfield Airfield near Hutton in Scotland, Wojtek enjoyed swimming in the River Tweed but still helped out when asked, carrying logs and heavy boxes.
But following the disbanding of the Polish Army in 1947, it was decided that Wojtek would be relocated to Edinburgh Zoo.
According to reports, he walked into his new home of his own accord. He was treated well, given tea with milk every day and occasionally a nip or two of vodka or a slug of beer.
He responded best when spoken to in Polish and his former army colleagues in Berwickshire used to visit him, always insisting — much to the horror of the zoo keepers — that they be allowed into his enclosure for a cuddle or wrestle.
After 16 years in the zoo, Wojtek died on December 2, 1963, aged 22. Today, in addition to the statue in Duns, there is a plaque in his honour at the Imperial War Museum and, three years ago, a bronze statue of Wojtek was unveiled in Princes Street Gardens in Edinburgh, depicting him walking proudly side by side with a Polish soldier.
If the film about Wojtek becomes as famous as The Snowman — known throughout the world for the song Walking In The Air — there will be one irrefutable difference of which the people in Duns will be proud.
The Snowman is a fairy tale. But the tale of Wojtek, the wartime hero, is true.