A stream so shallow you scarcely got your feet wet divided a village for more than four decades of time. Due to a quirk of topography, the half a hundred locals of Mödlareuth, a tiny settlement surrounded by pine forests, pastures and breathtaking views, found themselves at the core of the cold war. They had the bad luck to span the Bavarian region, in Western Germany, and the Thuringian region in the Soviet sector, a border that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a partition. American soldiers dubbed it Little Berlin.
A few months after their own division was breached, and even before their country had unified again in 1990, a assembly of residents set about commemorating their past. The work is close to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th annual remembrance of the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was officially launched by the national president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the show wasn’t quite finished. Addressing the locals who lived through the past era, Steinmeier said: “You were witnesses of an brutal division, which tore households apart and turned neighbours into strangers.”
“You were bystanders of an brutal split, which tore households into pieces and turned neighbors into aliens.”
Right from its establishment in 1810, the community straddled the Bavarian Kingdom and the Principality of Reuss, a noble lineage best known for giving all its men the name Heinrich and numbering them sequentially by birth order. As Steinmeier related to the crowd, the peculiarity never stood in the manner of the locals drinking in the identical pub, going to the identical religious building and placing their kids to the identical learning center.
Next arrived the World War II. Immediately after they arrived, the Russian troops put up wood stakes by the brook. For a twelve months they occupied the whole hamlet, creating their control center in a building on the Bavarian side, embellishing it with a image of Stalin and a Soviet emblem. The Americans convinced them to retreat across the creek. For a period, locals could still jump across, though as limitations became stricter they were obliged to present identification, although everyone was aware who they were, and to return at after dark.
After that, in 1952, came barbed wire and the official shutting of the frontier. In 1966, as in Berlin five years earlier, a wall was erected, with landmines, vehicle barriers and watchtowers. The locals could still observe each other by ascending hills, but on the east side signaling and calling out were banned. A local woman was added to a East German secret police surveillance list for replying “same to you” to a western villager who wished her “prosperous new year”.
It was related to me accounts including these by Robert Lebegern, the head of the institution, who has devoted a significant portion of his occupational time creating it. Villagers were polled in the initial phases about how what length of wall they wanted to keep. They chose a portion on the west perimeter, near where one of their own was able to get away in the middle of the night with a ladder, after which the boundary was significantly reinforced.
Two watchtowers are maintained alongside a series of exhibits illustrating the most impactful dates in the community’s history. As we move, Lebergen lists the restrictions: not a single person could approach 5km of the frontier. Rural residents needed special permission to tend to their fields; the spouse could operate the combine harvester but never the pair, for fear that they attempted to flee. Soldiers kept guard.
The frontier between Western Germany and the German Democratic Republic extended nearly 900 miles, from the northern sea in the north to the south in the south. Berlin is remembered and memorialised the most frequently, but over twice as many individuals (exceeding 300) died attempting to traverse it in provincial zones than in the urban center. the director informs me that 95% of escape attempts were unsuccessful.
Most of Mödlareuth’s residents were agricultural workers or craftsmen, who adjusted to dwelling in the uncertain territory between two political systems by keeping their heads down and tending to their farms. They nor did they backed the communist regime nor resisted it, Lebegern clarifies.
For tourists, however, the hamlet became a sort of pilgrimage. Roughly 15k came to visit each year, optical devices in possession, to look – and then quickly go away. In 1983, the United States leader, George Bush, was shown around by the German defense official.
Twenty-five years after merger, the TV show, a television program about a fictional village similar to Mödlareuth, caused fresh curiosity.
The inauguration of the modern exhibition center – with a restaurant, shop, cinema room and big parking lot – is probable to
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