A brook so shallow you barely got your feet wet separated a community for in excess of four decades of time. Because of a chance of landscape, the 50 residents of Mödlareuth, a hamlet surrounded by coniferous woods, meadows and breathtaking views, found themselves at the heart of the cold war. They had the misfortune to straddle Bavaria, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and Thuringia in the Soviet sector, a border that was demarcated first by a fence and then by a wall. American soldiers called it Mini Berlin.
Several months after their own barrier was opened, and before their country had reunified in 1990, a group of residents started documenting their heritage. The effort is about to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th anniversary of the collapse of the German barrier, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will open. It was formally opened by the head of state, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the display wasn’t quite finished. Addressing the residents who experienced the former times, Steinmeier stated: “You were observers of an brutal split, which ripped families asunder and turned local residents into strangers.”
“You were witnesses of an brutal division, which pulled families apart and turned neighbors into strangers.”
Right from its establishment in 1810, the village spanned the Kingdom of Bavaria and the Principality of Reuss, a noble lineage best known for bestowing all its male descendants the title Heinrich and labeling them consecutively by date of birth. As Steinmeier told the audience, the peculiarity was never an obstacle in the path of the locals socializing in the very same inn, going to the very same religious building and placing their children to the very same school.
Next arrived the global conflict. Immediately after they came, the Russian troops erected wooden posts by the brook. For a annual period they took over the entire village, setting up their headquarters in a dwelling on the western side, decorating it with a image of Stalin and a red star. The US forces persuaded them to retreat across the brook. For a period, residents could still cross over, though as controls increased they were required to present identity papers, although everyone knew who they were, and to come back at night.
Subsequently, in 1952, came barbed wire and the official closing of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin previously in 1961, a wall was constructed, with mines, tank traps and watchtowers. The villagers could continue to see each other by climbing hills, but on the Soviet side gesturing and shouting were forbidden. A female resident was placed on a GDR intelligence monitoring list for replying “back at you” to a Bavarian local who said her “prosperous new year”.
I heard narratives such as these by Robert Lebegern, the museum’s director, who has dedicated much of his occupational time creating it. Villagers were polled in the initial phases about how what length of barrier they desired to maintain. They opted for a portion on the western perimeter, close to where a local resident managed to get away in the darkest hours with a climbing device, subsequently the boundary was significantly strengthened.
2 guard towers are preserved alongside a series of exhibits depicting the most impactful events in the village’s history. As we walk, Lebergen enumerates the restrictions: no one could get closer than 5km of the border. Agricultural workers needed particular approval to care for their crops; the husband or wife could use the combine harvester but under no circumstances the pair, lest they sought to make a run for it. Military personnel stood watch.
The border between the Federal Republic and the East Germany extended 1,400 kilometers, from the Baltic coast in the north to here in the south. Berlin is remembered and documented the most, but in excess of twice as many individuals (exceeding 300) were killed seeking to traverse it in rural areas than in the metropolis. Robert Lebegern informs me that almost all of attempts to flee failed.
Most of Mödlareuth’s villagers were farmers or craftsmen, who accommodated to dwelling in the ambiguous area between 2 political systems by avoiding attention and looking after their fields. They neither endorsed the East German authorities nor resisted it, Lebegern states.
For sightseers, however, the settlement became a kind of site of interest. Roughly fifteen thousand visited annually, binoculars in their hands, to look – and then rapidly go away. In 1983, the American president, George Bush, was shown around by the German defence minister.
Twenty-five years after merger, the television series, a TV series about a imaginary village like Mödlareuth, caused renewed interest.
The launch of the new museum – with a cafe, store, movie theater and sizable car park – is likely to
Elara Vance is a UK-based astrophysicist and science communicator with over a decade of experience writing about space and technology.