A stream so narrow you hardly got your ankles wet divided a settlement for more than four decades. Because of a chance of landscape, the 50 inhabitants of Mödlareuth, a hamlet surrounded by coniferous woods, meadows and stunning scenery, found themselves at the center of the Cold War conflict. They had the unfortunate circumstance to straddle the Bavarian region, in West Germany, and Thuringia in the Eastern part, a border that was marked first by a barrier and then by a barricade. United States military personnel dubbed it Little Berlin.
Several months after their own barrier was opened, and even before their nation had reunified in 1990, a assembly of local people set about memorialising their heritage. The project is close to come to fruition: on 9 November, the thirty-sixth anniversary of the fall of the German barrier, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was officially launched by the national president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the beginning of October, but the exhibition was not completely prepared. Telling the villagers who lived through the old days, Steinmeier remarked: “You were observers of an cruel split, which pulled families into pieces and turned local residents into strangers.”
“You were observers of an cruel division, which tore families into pieces and turned neighbors into strangers.”
Right from its creation in 1810, the community spanned the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Princely State of Reuss, a noble lineage best known for giving all its male descendants the name Heinrich and numbering them consecutively by birth order. As Steinmeier told the audience, the peculiarity did not stand in the manner of the residents drinking in the very same inn, visiting the very same religious building and placing their kids to the very same school.
Next arrived the global conflict. The moment they appeared, the Russian troops erected timber poles by the brook. For a year they seized the complete hamlet, creating their command in a building on the Bavarian territory side, decorating it with a image of Stalin and a red star. The Americans urged them to retreat across the creek. For a time, villagers could continue to jump across, though as limitations increased they were required to present identity papers, despite the fact that everyone knew who they were, and to return at after dark.
After that, in 1952, came wire fencing and the official shutting of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin five years earlier, a wall was constructed, with explosives, tank traps and guard posts. The residents could still see each other by climbing hills, but on the Soviet side signaling and calling out were banned. A local woman was placed on a East German secret police watch list for replying “likewise” to a West German villager who said her “happy new year”.
I heard stories like these by Robert Lebegern, the museum’s director, who has devoted a significant portion of his occupational time building it. Residents were polled in the initial phases about how how long a section wall they wanted to maintain. They opted for a stretch on the west perimeter, near where one of their own was able to get away in the middle of the night with a climbing device, after which the boundary was significantly strengthened.
A pair of guard towers are preserved together with a collection of exhibits illustrating the most dramatic moments in the hamlet’s history. As we walk, Robert Lebegern enumerates the restrictions: nobody could come within 5km of the frontier. Agricultural workers required special permission to look after their fields; the spouse could work the combine harvester but under no circumstances both, lest they tried to escape. Armed guards kept guard.
The border between the Federal Republic and the GDR ran 1,400 kilometers, from the northern sea in the northern part to this location in the southern region. Berlin is recalled and documented the greatest, but over twice as many people (more than 300) were killed seeking to traverse it in provincial zones than in the urban center. Lebegern informs me that 95% of attempts to flee did not succeed.
Most of Mödlareuth’s villagers were rural laborers or craftsmen, who adjusted to residing in the grey zone between a pair of ideological spheres by avoiding attention and caring for their farms. They nor did they supported the East German authorities nor fought it, the director states.
For visitors, however, the settlement became a kind of destination. Roughly fifteen thousand came to visit every year, optical devices in possession, to look – and then quickly go away. In 1983, the United States leader, George Bush, was guided by the national security head.
25 years after reunification, the TV show, a television program about a fictional community similar to Mödlareuth, led to fresh interest.
The inauguration of the modern exhibition center – with a restaurant, shop, film screening area and large car park – is expected to
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