An brook so narrow you barely got your ankles wet separated a settlement for in excess of four decades. Because of a chance of topography, the fifty locals of Mödlareuth, a tiny settlement surrounded by pine forests, meadows and spectacular views, found themselves at the core of the Cold War tensions. They had the bad luck to cross Bavaria, in Western Germany, and Thuringia in the Soviet sector, a boundary that was established first by a fence and then by a barricade. US troops called it Little Berlin.
A few months after their own barrier was torn down, and even before their nation had become one in 1990, a group of local people set about documenting their past. The effort is about to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th annual anniversary of the collapse of the Berlin Wall, the Deutsch-Deutsches Museum Mödlareuth will open. It was formally opened by the head of state, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the exhibition was not entirely finished. Telling the locals who endured the past era, Steinmeier remarked: “You were observers of an cruel split, which ripped families into pieces and turned neighbors into aliens.”
“You were witnesses of an inhuman separation, which ripped families asunder and turned neighbors into strangers.”
Right from its establishment in 1810, the community spanned the Bavarian Kingdom and the Principality of Reuss, a royal family most famous for giving all its male members the designation Heinrich and labeling them consecutively by date of birth. As Steinmeier informed the audience, the oddity never stood in the way of the inhabitants socializing in the very same tavern, going to the very same place of worship and enrolling their children to the very same learning center.
Subsequently occurred the global conflict. Immediately after they came, the Soviet forces erected timber poles by the stream. For a annual period they occupied the whole hamlet, setting up their control center in a house on the western side, decorating it with a image of Stalin and a Soviet emblem. The US forces convinced them to retreat back over the stream. For a period, residents could still hop over, though as limitations became stricter they were forced to present identity papers, despite the fact that everyone understood who they were, and to come back at after dark.
Subsequently, in 1952, came metal barriers and the formal closing of the border. In 1966, as in Berlin half a decade before, a barrier was erected, with explosives, anti-tank obstacles and watchtowers. The residents could still observe each other by climbing hills, but on the east side waving and yelling were banned. A female resident was put on a East German secret police surveillance list for responding “same to you” to a Bavarian local who greeted her “happy new year”.
I heard stories including these incidents by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has dedicated a significant portion of his occupational time building it. Villagers were polled early on about how much structure they wished to preserve. They selected a portion on the Bavarian perimeter, adjacent to where a local resident managed to escape in the darkest hours with a ladder, following which the boundary was significantly fortified.
A pair of observation towers are conserved alongside a series of exhibits illustrating the most dramatic events in the community’s past. As we move, Lebergen enumerates the restrictions: nobody could approach 5km of the border. Agricultural workers needed special permission to care for their crops; the partner could work the combine harvester but not both, lest they sought to escape. Military personnel stood watch.
The boundary between West Germany and the German Democratic Republic stretched nearly 900 miles, from the Baltic Sea in the north to here in the south. Berlin is commemorated and honored the greatest, but in excess of twice as many persons (exceeding 300) were killed attempting to traverse it in rural areas than in the big city. Lebegern informs me that 95% of escape attempts were unsuccessful.
The majority of Mödlareuth’s locals were agricultural workers or artisans, who adjusted to living in the ambiguous area between 2 ideological spheres by keeping their heads down and looking after their fields. They nor did they backed the socialist government nor resisted it, Lebegern explains.
For sightseers, however, the village became a sort of destination. Roughly fifteen thousand visited annually, binoculars in possession, to stare – and then swiftly depart. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was given a tour by the German defense official.
25 years after merger, the TV show, a television program about a fictional hamlet resembling Mödlareuth, resulted in fresh interest.
The inauguration of the new museum – with a coffee shop, boutique, movie theater and big parking lot – is expected to
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