Wojtek the Bear [paperback] (14 page)

With a heavy heart, he eventually accepted the deal brokered by his commanding officer, Major Chelminski, to give Wojtek to Edinburgh Zoo under strict terms and
conditions. These were that the bear would have a home for life at the zoo and would never be moved or transferred, save with the express permission of the CO. The zoo readily agreed. Thus it was
that on Saturday, 15 November 1947, Wojtek left Winfield Camp for the last time.

Wojtek’s mode of transport was an open truck. As a demobbed bear he no longer qualified for military transportation, so the vehicle had been laid on for him by Mrs Dunlop of Mayfield. As a
member of the Scottish–Polish Society, she had been instrumental in helping Major Chelminski work out the deal with Edinburgh Zoo.

Wojtek, who always liked going on outings and looked forward to them, docilely climbed aboard the back. Accompanied by Peter and another serviceman, Jan, he stood at the top of the truck,
towering over its cabin, with both massive paws resting on its roof. As usual, when he and Peter were standing together, Peter had one hand on Wojtek’s back and the huge beast reciprocated,
standing so close that his body was touching Peter’s legs. The mutual comfort of touch was probably a throwback to the early days of contact between the two, man and cub. Now it was a gesture
of unconditional love and affection between the pair.

For those Polish soldiers who could bear to watch, that was the last they saw of Wojtek as the truck was slowly driven out of the camp by Archie Brown. The pall of gloom over the camp was
palpable.

Archie had also been involved in negotiations with Edinburgh Zoo and was very much the correct choice to
drive the bear to his new home. He knew just how much the bear
meant to the men and could also act as their interpreter. Archie’s respect for the Poles was very much a family trait. His eldest brother, who served in the RAF, was one of only two Scots
ever given the honorary rank of colonel by the Poles as a mark of their appreciation for his services to the Polish military as a liaison officer and interpreter.

The drive to Edinburgh Zoo took more than two hours and through it all Wojtek surveyed the countryside with his usual great interest, taking in all its sights. For his two companions, wrapped up
tightly in their heavy greatcoats to ward off the icy wind, and wracked with sadness and guilt, the truck journey must have seemed an endless purgatory.

Uppermost in Peter’s mind must have been how Wojtek reacted when they were separated for a mere two weeks – when reunited he’d almost bear-hugged Peter into the hospital. Now
Peter and Wojtek were being parted once more, not just for a fortnight but forever. How on earth would the bear cope? Indeed, how would he cope without Wojtek?

For Peter, giving up Wojtek was like abandoning his own child. It could be said this was the second time he had lost his family. At the outbreak of the war, after Stalin’s troops invaded
East Poland, Peter and his wife and two of their four children had been shipped out to Siberia by the Russians, leaving behind their two eldest boys. Somewhere in that great upheaval Peter and his
family were parted. Details are scanty, but according to a Polish contemporary, Peter’s wife managed to journey back from Siberia to the Caspian Sea. She and her two children were then held
in a refugee camp in the Middle East. One can only guess at the
horrors the three endured on that epic journey; when travelling they would have been constantly on the edge
of starvation. On the journey one of the children died.

Now Wojtek and his companions were making this miserable journey to Edinburgh. In the Scottish capital, Wojtek was driven along Princes Street, past amazed pedestrians and motorists. A showbiz
trouper to the end, Wojtek enjoyed the sensation he was causing.

At Edinburgh Zoo the truck was directed to Wojtek’s new home. Despite having been told that the bear was domesticated, awaiting him was a welcoming committee of zoo staff equipped with all
the paraphernalia they kept on hand for new arrivals – chains, steel goads and special cages to force reluctant or frightened animals into their compounds. To Peter and Jan the sight of a
group of strangers, no matter how well-intentioned, armed to the teeth with animal restraints must have been heartbreaking. But fortunately they weren’t needed. When the truck stopped, Wojtek
quietly clambered off the tailgate, accompanied by Peter who still had him on his short tether.

He and his mentor calmly walked into the barred enclosure that was to be Wojtek’s home – or more accurately, his prison – for the next 17 years. Peter untethered Wojtek from
his chain. As he did so, Wojtek – as was his wont – gave the kneeling soldier a swift lick on the face, a thank-you gesture to say he had enjoyed the journey and was pleased his
restraining chain was being removed. His bright, intelligent, button eyes alive with curiosity, Wojtek set about exploring his new surroundings. He wasn’t upset or disturbed in the least.
From a kit bag, Peter brought out some clothing and an old blanket, all of which had his scent upon them, and laid them on the
ground. A few minutes later, stifling his
tears, he quietly removed himself from the enclosure and shut the gate. He and the bear were now on different sides of the bars. The deed was done.

It took a huge effort of will on the part of Peter and his friend Jan to leave Wojtek. Standing on his hind legs, grasping the bars with his huge forepaws, the bear stared trustingly after them
as they walked away. Wojtek then settled down to await their return.

The zoo’s director Thomas Gillespie, who was on hand to witness Wojtek’s arrival, was later to write in his memoirs,
The Story of Edinburgh Zoo
: ‘I never felt so sorry
to see an animal that had enjoyed so much freedom and fun confined to a cage.’

It was said that for a full month back at Winfield Camp Peter wept every night over the plight of Wojtek. In truth, his sadness lasted a great deal longer. Having endured unimaginable suffering,
this final loss almost broke him, mentally and emotionally.

Peter Prendys was a rather shy, self-effacing man who preferred to keep in the background or on the fringes of his more ebullient comrades’ activities. He was meticulous in caring for
Wojtek and quietly and without fuss carried out any arrangements required to ensure matters ran relatively smoothly for his charge. But there is little doubt that he was scarred mentally, and
indeed physically, by the privations he endured while imprisoned in a Soviet gulag. Rake-thin, he never fully regained a normal appetite, a legacy of the starvation rations he had had to exist on
in the slave camps and on the long journey to the Middle East where he would be part of General Anders’ army.

He had loved and cared for Wojtek as if he had been his
own child. His colleagues, in the months that followed Wojtek’s removal to the zoo, learned not to talk
about the bear in front of him because at the mention of his name Peter would burst into tears.

The Polish troops always believed that, somehow, Edinburgh Zoo was only a temporary solution. Some time later, at a Polish club in Falkirk, Peter was asked for his thoughts on the matter. For
once, tears didn’t well up as he told his inquirer: ‘In Edinburgh Zoo I know he is safe. Now I have to look after me. Then we will see.’While in Scotland, he never gave up hope
that one day he and Wojtek would be reunited.

The bear pined, too. He had always been an immensely clean bear, carefully tending to his ablutions. But now his beautiful silken coat, which previously he had groomed meticulously almost every
day, became dull and dusty-looking.

Even so, Wojtek continued to indulge his passion for water sports. In his zoo enclosure he had his own private pool. Certainly, it was a much less grand affair than he would have liked, and it
was furred with algae, but in the years when he was fit enough to do so, he swam and played in it nearly every day.

As was perhaps inevitable, the Border Poles made numerous trips from the camp to see Wojtek in his new surroundings. They were encouraged to do so by the zoo, who wrote to the camp asking them
to come. In the early weeks, that sometimes proved less than a kindness. Hearing familiar Polish being spoken, instead of the keepers’ puzzling English, the bear’s demeanour would
instantly change and he would seek out the source to discover his old companions.

One of the Polish exiles who regularly visited Wojtek in
the zoo was Kay. He used to take his children to see the bear. Augustyn said the keeper had a soft spot for the
bear and was quite prepared to bend the rules a little to ensure Wojtek got his much-loved forbidden treats: ‘If he knew you were Polish the keeper would deliberately look the other way so
that you could throw cigarettes and sweeties into the compound.’

As Augustyn had lived with the bear in the camp, he knew what Wojtek wanted to hear: a good conversation in Polish. It may have been a bit one-sided, but the bear loved to hear people speaking
the Polish language.

Augustyn said he always felt depressed when he left the zoo: ‘Wojtek was a different animal in the zoo. Though I’m sure they looked after him very well, he really looked fantastic
when he was in the camp, running around free and eating what we ate. His coat was shining and his eyes were bright. In camp he was either busy looking for food or sleeping, not much in between;
Peter kept him in check and he was no bother.’

That said, Augustyn agreed with the painful decision to rehome Wojtek in the zoo: ‘It was the only thing they could have done in all reality.’

Actually, it was a pretty good choice. Situated in Corstorphine, Edinburgh Zoo was created by the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland and occupies a site of some 85 acres. The zoo opened its
gates to the public in July 1913, and quickly established itself as a leading institution in its field. In Wojtek’s day it was very much at the cutting edge of zoological practice. Today it
houses some 1,000 animals and is currently embarking on an ambitious development plan which will take approximately 20 years to complete at a projected cost of £85 million.

For Wojtek there were still occasional echoes of his old life. More than a few Polish servicemen, completely ignoring zoo safety regulations and to the horror of the zoo
staff, would climb into the enclosure and challenge Wojtek to wrestling matches just as they had done back in the camp. The bear would respond joyously, revelling in the familiar games he used to
play with his friends. There would be fun and laughter. But then it would come time for the men to leave. They would go off. Wojtek would try to follow them, only to find the way barred.

Frustrated, upset and baffled at what was happening, he would go into a deep sulk. He was a highly intelligent animal. All of his life he had received mixed messages from his companions:
sometimes the soldiers treated him as one of their own, at other times he would be handled like a small child or domestic pet. Through it all, Wojtek had developed his own very distinct and quite
complex personality which suited him and pleased his fellow soldiers. His was a strange amalgam of ursine and human behaviour. But there was absolutely no doubt that, prior to being incarcerated in
the zoo, he considered himself to be a soldier living and working among equals. Thus every time the compound gate stayed shut when his companions walked off, it was hurtful and depressing. All of
his life, Wojtek had received conflicting signals from the men: sometimes they treated him like a comrade and sometimes like an animal. Through it all, he had ploughed his own furrow, clinging
tenaciously to the belief that he was exactly like them. Now, once again, humans were mysteriously changing the rules and he was left on his own.

Gradually, however, Wojtek’s jovial personality began
to reassert itself, and he started bonding with his regular keepers. It took him at least six months to accept
that he was no longer free to wander off, pursuing whatever interest took his fancy. Now, when groups of Poles visited him, he no longer pined when they departed. Indeed, his keepers noticed that a
visit from them seemed to perk him up for several days. His memories of freedom never disappeared but visits from his Polish friends became enjoyable rather than upsetting. He began to settle for
what there was, rather than what he wanted.

Always a sociable bear, he took considerable interest in the people – and animals – passing his enclosure. He was fascinated by the march of the penguins, a daily event where the
King Penguins waddle through the zoo. King Penguins have been a feature at the zoo since 1919, when Edinburgh Zoo established the first breeding programme in the world for captive King Penguins.
The spectacle of their daily parade always drew large crowds of children, particularly in the holidays, and Wojtek loved to hear their young voices. Perhaps the sound reminded him of the school
visits he had made back in the Borders or the times children rode on his back during the country dances he loved so much.

Wojtek’s old skills never deserted him. At the zoo, throughout his life, he remained a world-class expert in persuading the public to throw him little treats – often gobbling them
up, wrappings and all.

Towards the end of his life, Wojtek stuck more and more to his den, preferring to remain inside. Old and stiff, he found comfort in heat lamps and his warm bed. As his health began to fail,
Wojtek retreated into his own thoughts.

On 15 November 1963, he was humanely dispatched; his body was cremated and news articles were written. Although his fame by then had diminished, the memory of Wojtek
survived. There is a story that he has a grave but I suspect it is a hope rather than a fact, making a memorial even more important. He was 22 years of age – pretty much the average life span
of his breed, whether in captivity or in the wild. Indeed, many thousands of Poles did not live to see their 22nd birthdays.

Back in the early 1960s Wojtek had a plaque on his enclosure at the zoo recording his history. The nearby Post House Hotel even had a lounge bar honouring Wojtek. Beer mats and place mats
carried pictures of him and there was a wooden statue of a bear standing in one of the room’s corners. This particular statue is believed to be owned by Barnardo’s now, and used to
encourage charity donations. At the zoo, the plaque about Wojtek has long since vanished. Although zoo staff know of the bear’s history, visitors search in vain for a public notice indicating
his last home. That should be remedied.