A creek so low you hardly got your feet wet split a village for over four decades. Because of a chance of landscape, the 50 inhabitants of Mödlareuth, a small village surrounded by pine forests, meadows and stunning views, found themselves at the heart of the Cold War conflict. They had the unfortunate circumstance to span Bavaria, in West Germany, and Thuringia in the Eastern part, a border that was established first by a fence and then by a wall. United States military personnel called it Mini Berlin.
Months after their own barrier was breached, and prior to their country had become one in 1990, a collection of villagers began commemorating their history. The project is close to come to fruition: on 9 November, the 36th commemoration of the demolition of the Berlin Wall, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will begin operations. It was publicly opened by the federal president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the beginning of October, but the display was not completely prepared. Telling the residents who lived through the old days, Steinmeier said: “You were witnesses of an inhuman split, which pulled relatives apart and turned local residents into foreigners.”
“You were witnesses of an cruel division, which pulled relatives into pieces and turned neighbors into foreigners.”
Even at its creation in 1810, the community spanned the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Princely State of Reuss, a royal family best known for giving all its male descendants the designation Heinrich and numbering them consecutively by birth order. As Steinmeier told the gathering, the peculiarity was never an obstacle in the manner of the residents socializing in the very same tavern, visiting the identical religious building and sending their kids to the same school.
Next arrived the World War II. Immediately after they appeared, the Soviet forces put up wood stakes by the creek. For a year they occupied the entire community, creating their command in a building on the western side, decorating it with a picture of Stalin and a Soviet emblem. The Americans persuaded them to pull back back over the stream. For a period, residents could still cross over, though as controls became stricter they were obliged to show identification, even though all knew who they were, and to go back at evening.
After that, in 1952, came wire fencing and the formal closing of the border. In 1966, as in Berlin previously in 1961, a concrete structure was built, with mines, vehicle barriers and observation points. The villagers could continue to observe each other by ascending hills, but on the Soviet side waving and yelling were banned. One woman was put on a GDR intelligence monitoring list for responding “back at you” to a Bavarian local who greeted her “good new year”.
I was told narratives including these by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has spent much of his occupational time building it. Locals were polled early on about how much barrier they wished to preserve. They selected a portion on the west edge, adjacent to where a villager succeeded to flee in the darkest hours with a scaling tool, following which the frontier was heavily reinforced.
A pair of watchtowers are conserved in addition to a series of displays depicting the most dramatic events in the community’s chronicle. As we walk, Robert Lebegern details the regulations: not a single person could approach 5km of the frontier. Agricultural workers had to obtain special permission to care for their crops; the partner could use the harvesting machine but never the pair, in case they attempted to make a run for it. Armed guards stood watch.
The frontier between Western Germany and the German Democratic Republic extended 1,400km, from the Baltic coast in the north to the south in the south. Berlin is commemorated and memorialised the most, but in excess of two times more individuals (well over 300) died trying to traverse it in countryside regions than in the big city. Robert Lebegern reminds me that 95% of attempts to flee were unsuccessful.
Most of Mödlareuth’s locals were agricultural workers or skilled workers, who accommodated to dwelling in the uncertain territory between a pair of ideological spheres by avoiding attention and caring for their farms. They did not backed the East German authorities nor opposed it, Lebegern clarifies.
For tourists, however, the hamlet became a type of site of interest. Approximately 15,000 visited every year, optical devices in their hands, to gawp – and then quickly go away. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was guided by the German defense official.
Twenty five years after merger, the television series, a broadcast production about a made-up village resembling Mödlareuth, led to renewed attention.
The launch of the modern exhibition center – with a cafe, boutique, movie theater and big parking lot – is expected to
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