Free Wojtek the Bear [paperback] by Aileen; Orr Page B

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 gentlegiant. 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, thestoves 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