An brook so narrow you scarcely got your ankles wet split a village for over four decades worth of time. By an accident of landscape, the half a hundred locals of Mödlareuth, a hamlet surrounded by evergreen groves, fields and breathtaking scenery, found themselves at the core of the cold war. They had the misfortune to span the Bavarian region, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and the Thuringian region in the East, a frontier that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a barricade. American soldiers dubbed it Small Berlin.
Months after their own wall was torn down, and even before their state had reunified in 1990, a assembly of villagers set about commemorating their heritage. The work is close to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th annual anniversary of the demolition of the Berlin Wall, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will open. It was officially opened by the national president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the display was not completely finished. Speaking to the residents who experienced the old days, Steinmeier remarked: “You were observers of an brutal division, which ripped families into pieces and turned neighbors into foreigners.”
“You were witnesses of an cruel split, which tore relatives apart and turned neighbors into strangers.”
Right from its founding in 1810, the hamlet straddled the Bavarian Kingdom and the Princely State of Reuss, a princely house most famous for assigning all its male descendants the title Heinrich and labeling them in order by birth order. As Steinmeier told the audience, the oddity never stood in the way of the locals drinking in the very same tavern, attending the identical church and placing their children to the very same learning center.
Next arrived the second world war. As soon as they came, the Russian troops installed timber poles by the brook. For a annual period they took over the entire village, setting up their command in a dwelling on the western side, adorning it with a picture of Stalin and a communist symbol. The US forces convinced them to withdraw to the other side of the creek. For a while, villagers could still jump across, though as controls increased they were required to display ID, despite the fact that everyone was aware who they were, and to go back at night.
Subsequently, in 1952, came metal barriers and the official closing of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin half a decade before, a concrete structure was erected, with landmines, vehicle barriers and watchtowers. The villagers could still observe each other by climbing elevations, but on the east side waving and shouting were prohibited. One woman was added to a Stasi monitoring list for replying “same to you” to a western resident who wished her “good new year”.
I was told stories like these tales by Robert Lebegern, the head of the institution, who has spent a large part of his occupational time creating it. Residents were asked early on about how much wall they wanted to keep. They opted for a portion on the west perimeter, adjacent to where one of their own succeeded to get away in the darkest hours with a scaling tool, subsequently the frontier was substantially reinforced.
2 watchtowers are conserved together with a series of tableaux depicting the most significant moments in the hamlet’s chronicle. As we walk, Robert Lebegern details the restrictions: no one could get closer than 5km of the frontier. Agricultural workers required special permission to tend to their crops; the spouse could use the harvesting machine but never the two, in case they attempted to escape. Armed guards were on duty.
The frontier between the Federal Republic and the East Germany ran 1,400km, from the Baltic Sea in the north to the south in the southern region. Berlin is commemorated and documented the most frequently, but in excess of twice as many people (more than 300) died trying to cross it in provincial zones than in the metropolis. Robert Lebegern reminds me that almost all of escape attempts did not succeed.
The majority of Mödlareuth’s villagers were farmers or skilled workers, who adapted to living in the ambiguous area between two ideological spheres by staying low-profile and looking after their farms. They did not supported the East German authorities nor fought it, the director explains.
For tourists, however, the settlement became a kind of pilgrimage. Approximately 15,000 visited annually, viewing tools in hand, to stare – and then swiftly depart. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was given a tour by the national security head.
25 years after merger, the TV show, a TV series about a fictional village like Mödlareuth, caused renewed curiosity.
The launch of the modern exhibition center – with a cafe, boutique, movie theater and sizable car park – is likely to
Elara is a passionate storyteller and writing coach, sharing her experiences to inspire others in their creative pursuits.
Evan Burton
Evan Burton