A stream so shallow you hardly got your ankles wet separated a village for over four decades worth of time. Due to a quirk of landscape, the half a hundred inhabitants of Mödlareuth, a small village encircled by pine forests, fields and breathtaking views, found themselves at the center of the Cold War conflict. They had the unfortunate circumstance to straddle Bavaria, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and the Thuringian region in the Eastern part, a boundary that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a barricade. United States military personnel nicknamed it Mini Berlin.
A few months after their own division was opened, and prior to their country had reunified in 1990, a assembly of local people began documenting their history. The project is about to come to fruition: on 9 November, the 36th anniversary of the demolition of the Berlin Wall, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will open. It was formally opened by the head of state, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the first part of October, but the show wasn’t quite ready. Addressing the locals who experienced the former times, Steinmeier stated: “You were witnesses of an cruel division, which ripped households asunder and turned neighbours into strangers.”
“You were observers of an cruel split, which ripped households apart and turned neighbors into foreigners.”
Even at its creation in 1810, the village cut across the Bavarian Kingdom and the Principality of Reuss, a noble lineage most renowned for bestowing all its male members the title Heinrich and labeling them consecutively by birth. As Steinmeier related to the audience, the oddity was never an obstacle in the way of the residents gathering in the very same inn, visiting the same church and placing their young ones to the same educational institution.
Next arrived the World War II. The moment they appeared, the Russians put up timber poles by the creek. For a year they occupied the entire community, establishing their command in a house on the Bavarian territory side, decorating it with a portrait of Stalin and a communist symbol. The American soldiers persuaded them to withdraw back over the creek. For a while, residents could still cross over, though as restrictions increased they were obliged to display identity papers, despite the fact that everyone knew who they were, and to go back at night.
Subsequently, in 1952, came metal barriers and the official shutting of the boundary. In 1966, as in Berlin half a decade before, a barrier was constructed, with explosives, tank traps and observation points. The residents could continue to see each other by scaling slopes, but on the eastern side gesturing and yelling were prohibited. A female resident was put on a East German secret police surveillance list for responding “same to you” to a western villager who said her “happy new year”.
It was related to me stories like these tales by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has dedicated a large part of his occupational time developing it. Locals were asked in the initial phases about how much barrier they wished to preserve. They opted for a section on the western perimeter, near where one of their own succeeded to get away in the middle of the night with a scaling tool, subsequently the border was significantly strengthened.
Two watchtowers are maintained together with a collection of displays depicting the most impactful events in the hamlet’s past. As we walk, the director enumerates the rules: not a single person could get closer than 5km of the boundary. Agricultural workers needed special permission to tend to their produce; the spouse could operate the agricultural equipment but never both, in case they attempted to make a run for it. Armed guards were on duty.
The boundary between the Federal Republic and the GDR stretched 1,400km, from the northern sea in the northern part to this location in the south. Berlin is remembered and memorialised the most, but in excess of double the number individuals (more than 300) were killed trying to traverse it in provincial zones than in the big city. the director reminds me that 95% of escape attempts did not succeed.
The greater part of Mödlareuth’s residents were rural laborers or artisans, who adapted to dwelling in the uncertain territory between two political systems by staying low-profile and looking after their farms. They did not backed the socialist government nor resisted it, the director states.
For visitors, however, the village became a kind of destination. About 15k came to visit every year, viewing tools in their hands, to stare – and then quickly depart. In 1983, the United States leader, George Bush, was guided by the German defence minister.
25 years after unification, the TV show, a broadcast production about a made-up hamlet similar to Mödlareuth, led to renewed curiosity.
The opening of the recently established museum – with a coffee shop, store, film screening area and large car park – is expected to