A stream so narrow you hardly got your feet wet split a village for more than four decades of time. By an accident of topography, the half a hundred locals of Mödlareuth, a hamlet bordered by evergreen groves, fields and breathtaking scenery, found themselves at the core of the Cold War conflict. They had the bad luck to straddle Bavaria, in Western Germany, and Thuringia in the East, a border that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a wall. American soldiers called it Small Berlin.
A few months after their own division was breached, and prior to their state had reunified in 1990, a assembly of villagers set about memorialising their heritage. The work is about to come to fruition: on 9 November, the thirty-sixth anniversary of the collapse of the German barrier, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was officially launched by the head of state, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the first part of October, but the display wasn’t quite ready. Telling the locals who endured the past era, Steinmeier remarked: “You were witnesses of an cruel split, which tore households apart and turned neighbours into strangers.”
“You were observers of an cruel division, which tore relatives asunder and turned neighbors into strangers.”
Right from its creation in 1810, the village cut across the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Principality of Reuss, a princely house most famous for giving all its male members the designation Heinrich and numbering them sequentially by birth. As Steinmeier informed the crowd, the peculiarity was never an obstacle in the way of the locals gathering in the identical inn, visiting the same religious building and enrolling their kids to the same school.
Then came the global conflict. Immediately after they appeared, the Russians put up wood stakes by the creek. For a twelve months they seized the entire village, creating their headquarters in a dwelling on the Bavarian side, embellishing it with a image of Stalin and a red star. The Americans convinced them to retreat to the other side of the stream. For a time, locals could continue to hop over, though as restrictions tightened they were forced to show identification, even though all was aware who they were, and to come back at after dark.
After that, in 1952, came barbed wire and the formal closing of the frontier. In 1966, as in Berlin five years earlier, a barrier was built, with explosives, anti-tank obstacles and guard posts. The villagers could continue to observe each other by ascending slopes, but on the eastern side gesturing and shouting were forbidden. One woman was put on a East German secret police surveillance list for responding “back at you” to a West German villager who wished her “happy new year”.
It was related to me stories including these by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has spent much of his professional career developing it. Residents were consulted early on about how what length of barrier they desired to maintain. They chose a stretch on the west fringe, near where a villager succeeded to escape in the middle of the night with a ladder, subsequently the border was heavily strengthened.
A pair of watchtowers are maintained together with a set of exhibits depicting the most significant events in the village’s chronicle. As we stroll, Robert Lebegern lists the rules: not a single person could come within 5km of the border. Farmers required particular approval to tend to their produce; the husband or wife could work the harvesting machine but never both, lest they attempted to make a run for it. Soldiers kept guard.
The frontier between the Federal Republic and the GDR extended nearly 900 miles, from the Baltic coast in the north to this location in the south. Berlin is remembered and documented the greatest, but over twice as many people (well over 300) were killed attempting to pass over it in provincial zones than in the metropolis. Robert Lebegern reminds me that 95% of attempts to flee were unsuccessful.
Most of Mödlareuth’s locals were farmers or artisans, who adjusted to dwelling in the uncertain territory between 2 political systems by keeping their heads down and caring for their fields. They neither backed the socialist government nor resisted it, Robert Lebegern explains.
For sightseers, however, the settlement became a type of pilgrimage. Approximately 15k came to see every year, viewing tools in possession, to look – and then rapidly depart. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was given a tour by the national security head.
Twenty five years after merger, the television series, a broadcast production about a made-up village similar to Mödlareuth, resulted in new interest.
The opening of the new museum – with a restaurant, store, movie theater and large vehicle area – is expected to
A passionate play advocate and family entertainment expert with over a decade of experience in organizing creative activities for children.