Bear With Me: The Reincarnation Chronicles (WW2 Self Insert as Wojtek)

[Michael Schachter]

Another of my weird ideas, enjoy!

Chapter 1: A New Life in Fur​

Iran, 1942

He awoke with a start, an overwhelming sense of confusion enveloping him. His senses felt out of sync—everything seemed far too sharp, too vivid, and too close all at once. His body felt strange, tiny but sturdy, and covered in something warm and soft.

He tried to move his fingers, but instead of fingers, he saw small, clawed paws?! His heart skipped a beat as he blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The cool mountain air chilled his skin beneath the fur, and there was a distinct scent of earth and pine that filled his nostrils. He blinked and turned his head, realizing with an incredulous jolt that he was lying in a forest, surrounded by towering trees.

Panic surged through him as he struggled to his feet, his limbs wobbling awkwardly. He felt off-balance, as if his body was not his own. He looked down again, seeing the furry paws, and a creeping sense of dread filled him. He moved clumsily, trying to stand upright, but his body wouldn't cooperate—it seemed designed to move on all fours. His mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. Was he dreaming? Was this some kind of bizarre hallucination?

He glanced to his other side, and his breath caught in his throat. There was something massive lying nearby. It was a bear—a large bear, still and lifeless. His eyes widened as he took in the sight. The bear was lying protectively near him, its body curled slightly as if shielding him from something. A terrible realization began to dawn on him. That was his mother—at least, it must have been his mother, judging by the way her body lay so close to his.

It was clear that she had been shot; the ground around her stained dark, the deep coopery smell filling the forest.

He swallowed hard, his small bear heart pounding with fear and uncertainty. He looked down at himself again, taking in the fur, the paws, the strange, compact body. The truth hit him like a lightning bolt—he had somehow been reincarnated as a bear cub.

His mind reeled, the weight of the realization almost too much to bear. How could this be possible? One moment he had been... What had he been doing? He struggled to remember, but his memories were hazy, fragmented. What was his name? He could recall flashes of his past life—his human life—but they were slipping away, like trying to hold water in his hands. He barely had time to process this impossible new reality when he heard voices—men's voices, harsh and echoing in the quiet forest. They were getting closer.

"Yeki ra az dast dadi, bakesh!"

Instinct and fear took over. He stumbled to his paws again—tiny, wobbly, and covered in fur. His new body moved in strange ways that he struggled to control, but he knew one thing—he had to escape! He darted into the underbrush, moving as quickly as his small legs would carry him. Branches scraped against his sides, and his paws sank into the earth as he ran, the shouts of the hunters fading behind him. He didn't know how far he ran or for how long, but eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he collapsed in a small clearing, his stomach growling painfully.

Days passed in a blur of hunger, cold, and confussion. He tried to make sense of his situation, but it was difficult when every moment was a fight for survival. He stumbled through the mountains, nibbling on leaves and roots, but it wasn't enough. He was starving, weak, and disoriented. He began to think that he might not survive—that perhaps he would die again, this time in the body of a bear cub, alone in the mountains of a strange land.

Just as hope began to slip away, he heard a gentle voice. A young boy, perhaps a few years older than he had been in his past life, approached him cautiously. He had curly brown hair and green eyes. The boy spoke softly, his language unfamiliar, but his intentions were clear as he extended a hand, offering help.

The boy took him in, treating him like a pet. He brought him bread and water, made him a small place to sleep, and even played with him when his chores were done. He began to regain some strength, and with it, a semblance of normality returned to his life. He still didn't fully understand how he had ended up in the body of a bear cub in the middle of nowhere, but he had a roof over his head and a boy who seemed to care for him. The boy's family seemed to dislike him, however, they called him "Taoon", he didnt knew what it meant but it sounded offensive, they spoke a language he couldn't understand, but from the few words he picked up and remembered from his past life, he guessed it was farsi.

He stayed with the boy for weeks, growing accustomed to his new life as a bear, though the mysteries of his reincarnation still lingered. Over time, he began to develop the feeling that their friendship would last a long time. There was a bond forming between them—one that transcended their differences. Despite everything, he found comfort in the boy's kindness, and he felt an inexplicable sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, this new life wouldn't be so bad after all. It felt like the kind of friendships that lasted forever.

Forever lasted one month.

One day, things changed. A group of soldiers arrived in the village—not Iranian soldiers, but something different. They wore uniforms with a white-and-red armband, and their voices were foreign. Polish, he realized.

The boy who had taken care of him spoke with the soldiers, and after what seemed like an eternity of intense negotiations, the boy finally agreed to hand him over. He watched in utter disbelief as the boy, his supposed best friend, exchanged him for a piece of chocolate—just a single, measly piece of chocolate—and a pack of cigarettes. It was a tragically low price for their eternal bond, and He couldn't help but wonder if he was worth at least a full bar of chocolate or maybe a nice bottle of Jack Daniel's.

But no, apparently, he was the equivalent of a quick sugar fix and a smoke.

He blinked, confused and startled as he was led away by the soldiers, glancing back at the boy who had already unwrapped the chocolate, chewing contently without a hint of regret. The betrayal was almost comedic in its absurdity. One moment they were best friends, and the next, he was sold for the cheapest bribe imaginable. He had no idea what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—his journey had just taken a very unexpected, and somewhat tragically ridiculous, turn.




Our brave MC still processing the betrayal!

 

[Michael Schachter]

Chapter 2: A Bear in Camp​

The Polish soldiers marched through the village, carrying him like some kind of trophy. He dangled helplessly in the arms of a particularly large man who seemed quite proud of himself, puffing his chest out as if he had single-handedly brought down a dragon. He could only hang there, legs flailing a bit, and mutter sarcastically in his head, "Yep, nothing like kidnapping a bear cub to prove you're a real war hero." He wasn't sure if this was a rescue or just an extension of the absurdity his life had become, but at this point, he was along for the ride.

As they approached the Polish camp, he quickly realized that calling these men "soldiers" was a bit of a stretch. They stumbled around, yelling at each other in what he guessed was Polish, laughing boisterously, and generally acting more like a pack of hooligans than disciplined troops. One of them, who appeared to have already had his fair share of drinks for the evening, tried to put his cap on his head, only for it to fall over his eyes completely. He sighed internally. "Fantastic. I'm in the hands of a bunch of overgrown children with rifles!"

The soldier holding him continued to parade him around the camp, showing him off to anyone who would listen. He felt like a prize fish, held up for inspection. A few of the soldiers patted his head or scratched behind his ears, which, admittedly, wasn't the worst thing ever. But then, just as the rowdiness seemed to be reaching a fever pitch, there was a sudden hush. The soldiers froze, their eyes snapping toward a figure approaching from the other side of the camp.

He squinted to get a better look. The man approaching was tall, with a stern expression and a uniform that was notably more polished than the others. He had an air of authority that made him immediately think, "Ah, this must be the fun police." The British accent that followed confirmed it. "What in the blazes is going on here?"

The soldier holding him straightened up so quickly that He almost slipped out of his arms. There was a painfully long, awkward silence as the British officer's stern gaze swept over the group. One of the soldiers cleared his throat nervously before blurting out in broken english, "Uh, sir, we... found a mascot, sir! Boosting morale and all that, sir." Finaly something I can understand! The officer's eyebrow arched higher, his eyes narrowing. "A mascot? You mean to tell me, in the middle of a war, you've taken it upon yourselves to kidnap a bear cub as a mascot?"

The soldier holding him stammered, "W-Well, sir, you see, the men could use a bit of a morale boost, and, uh, him here—" he had a difficult time finding the words in english.

The officer crossed his arms, waiting, his silence demanding a better explanation.

Another soldier, trying to be helpful, chimed in, "It's, uh, symbolic, sir! You know, like courage and strength! Like a lion, but... a bear."

The officer looked between them, his expression unimpressed. "Courage and strength? You're comparing yourselves to a bear now?" He paused, letting the weight of the question settle. "If this bear causes any trouble, it will be your heads on the line, understood?"

The soldiers all nodded vigorously, and after what felt like an eternity, the officer finally sighed and shook his head. It looked like this was not the first time he had to endure their shenanigans. "Just... keep it under control, will you? And for heaven's sake, try not to make a spectacle of yourselves." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the soldiers to exchange relieved glances and nervous chuckles.

Later that night, the mood in the camp was much more relaxed. A group of the Polish soldiers had gathered around a campfire, passing around bottles of what he assumed was some sort of alcohol. If he had to bet he would say Vodka, definitelly vodka. He sat in the middle of the circle, his small bear form curled up comfortably as the soldiers debated what to call him. Or at least thats what he guessed. They threw out a few names, most of which he couldn't understand, though one of them seemed to suggest calling him "Fluffy," which earned a round of laughter. He rolled his eyes—internally, of course. "Yes, please, call the bear who was just traded for a candy bar and a pack of cigarretes 'Fluffy.' That'll strike fear into the enemy."

Finally, one of the soldiers, a younger man with a mischievous grin, stood up and announced, "Wojtek! We shall call him Wojtek!" The others cheered, clearly approving of the name. He tilted his head, not understanding the language trying to make sense of it. But the word being repeated again and again stuck Wojtek? His name? It had a nice ring to it, he supposed. Better than "Fluffy," at least. The soldiers raised their bottles in a toast, and the young man patted the now chritianized Wojtek on the head, saying something that he assumed was a welcome to the group.

He sighed, settling down by the fire. "Well, Wojtek it is, then," he thought. "Here's to a life of being a glorified teddy bear for a bunch of wannabe soldiers. At least there's a campfire and some company." As the soldiers laughed and sang songs in a language he couldn't understand, he began to feel a strange sense of camaraderie.

Maybe the wannabe soldiers wont betray him. Again.

Maybe, just maybe, this new life wouldn't be so unbearable after all.