A creek so shallow you barely got your ankles wet separated a village for in excess of four decades of time. By an accident of topography, the half a hundred inhabitants of Mödlareuth, a tiny settlement encircled by coniferous woods, pastures and breathtaking scenery, found themselves at the core of the Cold War conflict. They had the unfortunate circumstance to span Bavaria, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and the Thuringian region in the Eastern part, a frontier that was demarcated first by a enclosure and then by a barricade. US troops called it Little Berlin.
Months after their own wall was breached, and prior to their country had become one in 1990, a collection of residents set about memorialising their heritage. The project is close to reach completion: on 9 November, the thirty-sixth remembrance of the collapse of the German barrier, the German-German Museum Mödlareuth will begin operations. It was officially launched by the national president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the display wasn’t quite finished. Speaking to the locals who experienced the former times, Steinmeier stated: “You were witnesses of an inhuman separation, which tore families into pieces and turned local residents into aliens.”
“You were observers of an brutal division, which pulled relatives asunder and turned local residents into foreigners.”
Even at its founding in 1810, the village spanned the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Princely State of Reuss, a noble lineage most renowned for assigning all its men the title Heinrich and labeling them sequentially by date of birth. As Steinmeier told the crowd, the peculiarity did not stand in the manner of the inhabitants drinking in the same tavern, going to the very same place of worship and enrolling their kids to the same learning center.
Subsequently occurred the World War II. Immediately after they arrived, the Russian troops installed timber poles by the stream. For a year they took over the entire community, creating their control center in a building on the western side, embellishing it with a picture of Stalin and a communist symbol. The American soldiers urged them to pull back back over the creek. For a time, villagers could still cross over, though as limitations increased they were required to present ID, even though each person understood who they were, and to come back at evening.
After that, in 1952, came barbed wire and the formal sealing of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin previously in 1961, a concrete structure was erected, with mines, anti-tank obstacles and guard posts. The villagers could still observe each other by climbing elevations, but on the eastern side waving and calling out were prohibited. A local woman was added to a GDR intelligence watch list for replying “back at you” to a Bavarian resident who said her “good new year”.
It was related to me stories such as these by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has devoted a significant portion of his working life developing it. Villagers were asked at an early stage about how how long a section wall they desired to maintain. They chose a section on the western fringe, adjacent to where a villager succeeded to flee in the dead of night with a climbing device, after which the border was significantly reinforced.
2 watchtowers are preserved together with a set of exhibits illustrating the most significant moments in the hamlet’s past. As we walk, Robert Lebegern enumerates the restrictions: no one could approach 5km of the frontier. Rural residents needed special permission to care for their crops; the spouse could use the agricultural equipment but never the two, lest they tried to make a run for it. Soldiers were on duty.
The border between Western Germany and the German Democratic Republic ran nearly 900 miles, from the northern sea in the north to the south in the south. Berlin is recalled and memorialised the most frequently, but over double the number persons (well over 300) lost their lives seeking to traverse it in provincial zones than in the urban center. Lebegern informs me that 95 percent of escape attempts failed.
The greater part of Mödlareuth’s locals were agricultural workers or craftsmen, who adjusted to living in the ambiguous area between a pair of political systems by keeping their heads down and looking after their land. They neither backed the East German authorities nor resisted it, Lebegern clarifies.
For tourists, however, the village became a kind of site of interest. Roughly 15,000 came to visit annually, binoculars in their hands, to look – and then quickly go away. In 1983, the American president, George Bush, was shown around by the national security head.
Twenty-five years after merger, the television series, a broadcast production about a fictional village resembling Mödlareuth, led to renewed interest.
The inauguration of the modern exhibition center – with a cafe, shop, film screening area and large car park – is likely to
Agricultural economist with over 15 years of experience in sustainable farming and rural development across the UK.