A stream so shallow you scarcely got your ankles wet separated a settlement 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 stunning views, found themselves at the center of the Cold War conflict. They had the misfortune to cross Bavaria, in Western Germany, and Thuringia in the East, a boundary that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a barricade. American soldiers nicknamed it Little Berlin.
A few months after their own wall was breached, and prior to their country had become one in 1990, a group of local people started documenting their heritage. The work is about to reach completion: on 9 November, the thirty-sixth remembrance of the collapse of the Wall in Berlin, the German-German Museum Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was officially launched by the national president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the beginning of October, but the show was not completely finished. Addressing the locals who lived through the former times, Steinmeier remarked: “You were observers of an inhuman separation, which ripped families asunder and turned neighbours into strangers.”
“You were bystanders of an cruel division, which pulled families apart and turned neighbours into strangers.”
Starting at its founding in 1810, the village cut across the Bavarian Kingdom and the Reuss Principality, a noble lineage most famous for giving all its male members the designation Heinrich and numbering them in order by birth order. As Steinmeier related to the gathering, the quirk was never an obstacle in the manner of the locals drinking in the very same pub, attending the same religious building and placing their kids to the very same school.
Subsequently occurred the global conflict. The moment they came, the Russians put up timber poles by the creek. For a year they seized the entire hamlet, creating their headquarters in a dwelling on the western side, adorning it with a image of Stalin and a communist symbol. The US forces convinced them to withdraw back over the brook. For a time, villagers could continue to hop over, though as restrictions increased they were obliged to display identity papers, although everyone understood who they were, and to come back at night.
After that, in 1952, came wire fencing and the formal closing of the frontier. In 1966, as in Berlin five years earlier, a wall was constructed, with explosives, tank traps and watchtowers. The locals could still see each other by climbing slopes, but on the Soviet side waving and shouting were prohibited. A female resident was added to a GDR intelligence watch list for responding “likewise” to a West German local who greeted her “happy new year”.
I was told stories such as these tales by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has spent a large part of his working life creating it. Residents were asked in the initial phases about how how long a section structure they wished to preserve. They selected a section on the western perimeter, near where one of their own succeeded to flee in the dead of night with a ladder, following which the boundary was significantly strengthened.
A pair of observation towers are preserved together with a collection of tableaux depicting the most significant events in the hamlet’s chronicle. As we move, the director enumerates the restrictions: not a single person could come within 5km of the border. Rural residents needed special permission to care for their fields; the husband or wife could use the agricultural equipment but under no circumstances both, in case they attempted to escape. Soldiers kept guard.
The boundary between West Germany and the East Germany ran 1,400km, from the Baltic Sea in the northern part to the south in the southern region. Berlin is remembered and memorialised the greatest, but in excess of twice as many people (exceeding 300) were killed seeking to traverse it in countryside regions than in the metropolis. the director tells me that 95% of efforts to cross did not succeed.
Most of Mödlareuth’s locals were farmers or skilled workers, who adapted to residing in the uncertain territory between 2 political systems by keeping their heads down and looking after their land. They nor did they endorsed the East German authorities nor opposed it, the director states.
For sightseers, however, the hamlet became a type of pilgrimage. Roughly 15,000 came to visit each year, optical devices in hand, to stare – and then rapidly depart. In 1983, the US president, George Bush, was given a tour by the German defense official.
Twenty five years after unification, the TV show, a TV series about a imaginary hamlet like Mödlareuth, resulted in renewed curiosity.
The launch of the modern exhibition center – with a coffee shop, shop, movie theater and large car park – is expected to
A tech strategist with over a decade of experience in digital innovation and business transformation, passionate about emerging technologies.