A creek so shallow you barely got your feet wet separated a settlement for in excess of four decades worth of time. By an accident of geography, the 50 locals of Mödlareuth, a hamlet bordered by pine forests, fields and spectacular scenery, found themselves at the center of the cold war. They had the unfortunate circumstance to cross the Bavarian region, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and Thuringia in the Soviet sector, a border that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a wall. United States military personnel nicknamed it Small Berlin.
Several months after their own division was opened, and before their state had become one in 1990, a group of local people started documenting their heritage. The work is about to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th remembrance of the demolition of the German barrier, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was publicly inaugurated by the head of state, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the beginning of October, but the display was not completely prepared. Telling the villagers who lived through the old days, Steinmeier remarked: “You were witnesses of an cruel separation, which ripped families apart and turned local residents into aliens.”
“You were bystanders of an cruel split, which tore relatives asunder and turned local residents into strangers.”
Even at its founding in 1810, the hamlet straddled the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Princely State of Reuss, a princely house most renowned for assigning all its men the title Heinrich and counting them sequentially by birth order. As Steinmeier related to the crowd, the peculiarity was never an obstacle in the path of the inhabitants socializing in the very same pub, attending the very same church and enrolling their young ones to the very same educational institution.
Subsequently occurred the second world war. As soon as they came, the Russians put up wooden posts by the brook. For a year they occupied the complete community, creating their control center in a building on the Bavarian territory side, adorning it with a portrait of Stalin and a red star. The US forces urged them to withdraw to the other side of the stream. For a time, locals could still hop over, though as controls became stricter they were obliged to present identity papers, even though each person was aware who they were, and to come back at evening.
After that, in 1952, came barbed wire and the formal shutting of the border. In 1966, as in Berlin five years earlier, a concrete structure was erected, with mines, anti-tank obstacles and watchtowers. The villagers could continue to see each other by scaling slopes, but on the Soviet side signaling and shouting were forbidden. A local woman was put on a East German secret police surveillance list for answering “likewise” to a western local who greeted her “prosperous new year”.
I heard narratives including these incidents by Robert Lebegern, the museum’s director, who has dedicated much of his professional career building it. Residents were consulted early on about how much barrier they wanted to preserve. They opted for a stretch on the western perimeter, close to where a villager succeeded to get away in the middle of the night with a ladder, after which the border was significantly reinforced.
Two observation towers are preserved in addition to a set of displays depicting the most dramatic events in the hamlet’s chronicle. As we stroll, Robert Lebegern enumerates the rules: not a single person could get closer than 5km of the frontier. Rural residents needed specific authorization to look after their fields; the spouse could operate the agricultural equipment but under no circumstances both, for fear that they attempted to escape. Armed guards kept guard.
The border between Western Germany and the German Democratic Republic extended 1,400km, from the Baltic coast in the northern part to this location in the southern region. Berlin is recalled and documented the most, but in excess of twice as many persons (more than 300) lost their lives trying to traverse it in rural areas than in the urban center. the director reminds me that 95% of efforts to cross failed.
The greater part of Mödlareuth’s locals were farmers or skilled workers, who adjusted to living in the uncertain territory between a pair of ideological spheres by keeping their heads down and caring for their land. They neither supported the socialist government nor fought it, the director clarifies.
For visitors, however, the hamlet became a type of site of interest. Roughly 15k visited annually, viewing tools in possession, to gawp – and then rapidly leave. In 1983, the American president, George Bush, was guided by the German defence minister.
25 years after unification, the TV show, a broadcast production about a made-up village resembling Mödlareuth, caused new curiosity.
The inauguration of the modern exhibition center – with a restaurant, store, film screening area and large parking lot – is expected to
Elara is a tech enthusiast and lifestyle blogger passionate about sharing innovative ideas and practical advice for modern living.
Edward Howard
Edward Howard
Edward Howard
Edward Howard
Edward Howard