An brook so narrow you scarcely got your feet wet divided a village for more than four decades of time. Because of a chance of geography, the 50 locals of Mödlareuth, a hamlet bordered by coniferous woods, pastures and stunning views, found themselves at the center of the Cold War tensions. They had the unfortunate circumstance to cross Bavaria, in West Germany, and the Thuringian region in the East, a boundary that was marked first by a fence and then by a wall. American soldiers dubbed it Little Berlin.
Several months after their own barrier was breached, and even before their country had become one in 1990, a collection of local people set about documenting their history. The effort is about to come to fruition: on 9 November, the 36th anniversary of the collapse of the Wall in Berlin, the Deutsch-Deutsches Museum Mödlareuth will begin operations. It was officially inaugurated by the federal president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the exhibition wasn’t quite finished. Telling the villagers who lived through the former times, Steinmeier stated: “You were witnesses of an inhuman split, which pulled households apart and turned local residents into strangers.”
“You were bystanders of an cruel split, which pulled families into pieces and turned neighbors into strangers.”
Starting at its establishment in 1810, the hamlet straddled the Royal Bavaria and the Reuss Principality, a royal family best known for bestowing all its male descendants the designation Heinrich and labeling them in order by birth order. As Steinmeier told the audience, the oddity was never an obstacle in the way of the inhabitants drinking in the very same inn, attending the same place of worship and placing their kids to the identical learning center.
Subsequently occurred the global conflict. The moment they appeared, the Soviet forces erected wooden posts by the stream. For a twelve months they occupied the complete village, establishing their headquarters in a building on the Bavarian side, decorating it with a image of Stalin and a red star. The Americans persuaded them to retreat back over the creek. For a while, villagers could continue to jump across, though as restrictions became stricter they were obliged to show identification, despite the fact that everyone knew who they were, and to go back at evening.
Then, in 1952, came metal barriers and the formal sealing of the border. In 1966, as in Berlin previously in 1961, a wall was constructed, with mines, anti-tank obstacles and observation points. The locals could continue to observe each other by scaling hills, but on the east side signaling and shouting were banned. One woman was placed on a Stasi watch list for responding “likewise” to a Bavarian villager who wished her “good new year”.
I was told stories such as these by Robert Lebegern, the head of the institution, who has devoted a large part of his occupational time creating it. Residents were consulted in the initial phases about how what length of barrier they wanted to maintain. They chose a section on the west edge, close to where a local resident managed to get away in the middle of the night with a scaling tool, after which the border was substantially fortified.
Two watchtowers are maintained alongside a collection of displays illustrating the most significant dates in the community’s past. As we stroll, Robert Lebegern lists the restrictions: no one could approach 5km of the frontier. Agricultural workers required specific authorization to look after their produce; the spouse could work the harvesting machine but not both, in case they attempted to make a run for it. Military personnel stood watch.
The frontier between Western Germany and the German Democratic Republic extended 1,400km, from the Baltic Sea in the north to this location in the south. Berlin is remembered and honored the most, but over double the number people (more than 300) were killed trying to traverse it in countryside regions than in the metropolis. the director tells me that 95 percent of efforts to cross were unsuccessful.
The greater part of Mödlareuth’s locals were rural laborers or craftsmen, who adapted to dwelling in the uncertain territory between 2 ideological spheres by keeping their heads down and caring for their farms. They nor did they supported the communist regime nor resisted it, Robert Lebegern clarifies.
For tourists, however, the settlement became a type of pilgrimage. Approximately fifteen thousand came to visit annually, binoculars in hand, to gawp – and then quickly go away. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was guided by the German defense official.
Twenty-five years after merger, the television series, a television program about a imaginary community similar to Mödlareuth, resulted in renewed curiosity.
The launch of the recently established museum – with a cafe, shop, cinema room and sizable vehicle area – is likely to
A certified financial planner with over 15 years of experience, specializing in retirement planning and wealth management for UK residents.
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Tina Whitehead
Tina Whitehead
Tina Whitehead
Tina Whitehead
Tina Whitehead
Tina Whitehead