Fond of a bevvy and a fag Wojtek’s habits weren’t too different from your typical soldier, but typical he most certainly wasn’t. Private Wojtek of the 22nd Polish Artillery Supply Company was actually a six-foot Syrian brown bear who served alongside Polish soldiers during the 1944 Battle of Monte Cassino. Now, 45 years after his death, he finds himself once more in the headlines as a campaign to have a monument honoring his life gathers pace.

So what’s his story then. He joined the unit in 1943 as Polish troops advanced into Palestine. Accounts differ how the soldiers came upon him, though it’s understood he was adopted as a homeless cub and weaned on condensed milk poured from a vodka bottle. Affectionately christened Wojtek he slept and worked alongside the men, helping in the transport of live shells and boxes of ammunition to artillery positions. Fed on a diet of marmalade and honey it wasn’t long before Wojtek started assuming human traits, including the love of a smoke and a beer – his rewards for a good day’s work. More than just a mascot Wojtek became a reliable member of his unit, mastering the controls of the shower hut, and once allegedly capturing an Arab spy hiding in the camp. With his unit reassigned to serve in the Italian campaign the soldiers faced the prospect of losing a loyal and valued comrade. The only loophole was to enlist him, and so it was Wojtek was entered into the Polish army, complete with name, number, identity and ration papers. His unit was deployed to Monte Cassino, and handed the unenviable task of resupplying Allied troops pinned down by German gunfire. It was in these hellish conditions Wojtek earned his spurs, never once dropping a shell. His bravery was recognized by high command who changed the insignia of the 22nd Company to depict a bear carrying crates of ammo.

By all accounts Wojtek was a bit of a social animal; during breaks in combat he would wrestle with his Polish mates, often clamping their heads in his jaws. He was a voracious tea drinker, sometimes taking his brew with a nip of vodka, and nor was he averse to clandestine raids on the field canteen.

Come the end of the war the company was redeployed to Berwickshire in Scotland, and it didn’t take long for the legend of Wojtek to spread. Local farmhand Jock Pringle recalls his run-ins with the soldier bear: ‘He had two bottles of beer a day and loved a fag, though it had to be lit for him. If it wasn’t lit he’d spit it back out on his paws. He’d have one puff and then swallow it.’ Finally, in 1947, his unit was demobilized, and Wojtek was placed in the care of Edinburgh Zoo where he became a cult attraction. His former comrades would occasionally visit him, flinging cigarettes his way, conversing in Polish to him, and even jumping into his enclosure to grapple with their old friend. Although the subject of a book and memorial following his death in 1963 Wojtek’s memory had been in danger of fading. That was until this year when he hit the headlines once more. Edinburgh locals are campaigning for a memorial to go up in his honour, while a new book and documentary about his life are due to be released shortly. This time round it looks like his legacy is here to stay.