An brook so shallow you hardly got your ankles wet split a community for in excess of four decades worth of time. Due to a quirk of geography, the 50 locals of Mödlareuth, a tiny settlement bordered by pine forests, pastures and breathtaking vistas, found themselves at the core of the Cold War tensions. They had the misfortune to cross the Bavarian region, in West Germany, and Thuringia in the East, a boundary that was marked first by a enclosure and then by a partition. US troops dubbed it Mini Berlin.
A few months after their own division was breached, and even before their state had reunified in 1990, a collection of villagers began memorialising their heritage. The effort is about to reach completion: on 9 November, the 36th annual anniversary of the collapse of the Wall in Berlin, the Deutsch-Deutsches Museum Mödlareuth will inaugurate. It was publicly inaugurated by the federal president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in early October, but the show was not completely finished. Addressing the residents who experienced the past era, Steinmeier remarked: “You were bystanders of an inhuman separation, which tore relatives into pieces and turned local residents into strangers.”
“You were bystanders of an cruel split, which ripped relatives apart and turned neighbours into aliens.”
Even at its creation in 1810, the hamlet spanned the Bavarian Kingdom and the Principality of Reuss, a royal family most famous for bestowing all its men the designation Heinrich and numbering them in order by date of birth. As Steinmeier told the crowd, the peculiarity never stood in the way of the locals drinking in the identical inn, attending the same religious building and sending their kids to the identical school.
Subsequently occurred the second world war. Immediately after they came, the Soviet forces erected timber poles by the brook. For a year they occupied the complete hamlet, setting up their control center in a dwelling on the Bavarian side, embellishing it with a picture of Stalin and a red star. The US forces persuaded them to pull back to the other side of the brook. For a time, residents could still hop over, though as restrictions increased they were forced to show identification, even though everyone was aware who they were, and to return at after dark.
Then, in 1952, came wire fencing and the legal closing of the frontier. In 1966, as in Berlin previously in 1961, a concrete structure was erected, with explosives, tank traps and watchtowers. The locals could continue to view each other by climbing slopes, but on the east side waving and yelling were forbidden. A female resident was placed on a Stasi surveillance list for replying “likewise” to a Bavarian local who greeted her “good new year”.
It was related to me narratives like these incidents by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has spent a large part of his occupational time building it. Residents were consulted early on about how much wall they wished to maintain. They chose a section on the western edge, adjacent to where one of their own succeeded to get away in the darkest hours with a ladder, following which the frontier was substantially reinforced.
Two observation towers are conserved in addition to a collection of tableaux illustrating the most significant events in the village’s chronicle. As we move, the director lists the rules: nobody could approach 5km of the frontier. Rural residents required particular approval to tend to their crops; the husband or wife could use the harvesting machine but under no circumstances both, for fear that they tried to flee. Military personnel were on duty.
The frontier between Western Germany and the East Germany stretched 1,400 kilometers, from the Baltic coast in the northern part to the south in the southern region. Berlin is recalled and documented the most, but more than twice as many people (more than 300) died seeking to pass over it in provincial zones than in the metropolis. the director informs me that 95% of attempts to flee were unsuccessful.
The greater part of Mödlareuth’s villagers were farmers or craftsmen, who adjusted to dwelling in the grey zone between 2 political systems by staying low-profile and looking after their fields. They neither supported the communist regime nor fought it, Robert Lebegern explains.
For visitors, however, the village became a kind of destination. About 15,000 visited annually, binoculars in their hands, to gawp – and then rapidly leave. In 1983, the United States leader, George Bush, was guided by the German defence minister.
Twenty-five years after unification, Tannbach, a broadcast production about a fictional community like Mödlareuth, resulted in renewed curiosity.
The launch of the new museum – with a restaurant, shop, cinema room and sizable car park – is expected to
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