Lena de Vries is een maritiem consultant met 15 jaar ervaring in havenlogistiek en scheepsbeheer.
A brook so narrow you hardly got your feet wet divided a village for in excess of four decades. Because of a chance of landscape, the half a hundred locals of Mödlareuth, a tiny settlement surrounded by coniferous woods, fields and spectacular vistas, found themselves at the center of the cold war. They had the misfortune to straddle the Bavarian region, in the Federal Republic of Germany, and the Thuringian region in the Soviet sector, a frontier that was demarcated first by a barrier and then by a partition. American soldiers dubbed it Small Berlin.
Several months after their own division was opened, and before their country had unified again in 1990, a assembly of local people started commemorating their heritage. The project is soon to be completed: on 9 November, the 36th annual remembrance of the fall of the German barrier, the Museum of German Division Mödlareuth will open. It was officially inaugurated by the national president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, in the beginning of October, but the display was not entirely ready. Speaking to the residents who endured the old days, Steinmeier stated: “You were bystanders of an inhuman separation, which ripped households into pieces and turned neighbors into strangers.”
“You were observers of an cruel separation, which pulled relatives into pieces and turned neighbours into strangers.”
Right from its establishment in 1810, the community cut across the Royal Bavaria and the Principality of Reuss, a noble lineage best known for bestowing all its male descendants the designation Heinrich and counting them sequentially by birth. As Steinmeier told the crowd, the quirk never stood in the manner of the inhabitants gathering in the identical pub, attending the identical place of worship and enrolling their children to the same school.
Subsequently occurred the global conflict. The moment they arrived, the Russian troops installed wood stakes by the stream. For a year they took over the whole community, setting up their command in a dwelling on the western side, embellishing it with a picture of Stalin and a red star. The US forces urged them to pull back back over the brook. For a period, villagers could still hop over, though as restrictions increased they were required to show identity papers, although everyone was aware who they were, and to go back at after dark.
After that, in 1952, came barbed wire and the official closing of the frontier. In 1966, as in Berlin five years earlier, a concrete structure was constructed, with explosives, vehicle barriers and guard posts. The residents could still observe each other by climbing slopes, but on the eastern side signaling and calling out were banned. A female resident was added to a Stasi watch list for answering “likewise” to a Bavarian local who wished her “prosperous new year”.
It was related to me narratives like these tales by Robert Lebegern, the director of the museum, who has devoted much of his professional career developing it. Locals were asked at an early stage about how much structure they wanted to preserve. They chose a stretch on the western perimeter, near where one of their own managed to get away in the darkest hours with a scaling tool, subsequently the frontier was significantly reinforced.
2 guard towers are preserved alongside a collection of tableaux illustrating the most dramatic dates in the hamlet’s history. As we move, the director lists the rules: no one could get closer than 5km of the frontier. Farmers needed particular approval to tend to their crops; the husband or wife could work the harvesting machine but never both, lest they tried to make a run for it. Armed guards stood watch.
The frontier between Western Germany and the German Democratic Republic ran 1,400km, from the Baltic Sea in the northern part to this location in the southern region. Berlin is commemorated and memorialised the most frequently, but in excess of double the number people (exceeding 300) died trying to pass over it in rural areas than in the urban center. Robert Lebegern reminds me that almost all of efforts to cross were unsuccessful.
Most of Mödlareuth’s locals were farmers or craftsmen, who adjusted to living in the grey zone between 2 ideological spheres by avoiding attention and caring for their land. They nor did they supported the socialist government nor opposed it, Lebegern clarifies.
For visitors, however, the village became a sort of destination. Roughly 15k came to see annually, viewing tools in their hands, to gawp – and then rapidly depart. In 1983, the United States leader, George Bush, was shown around by the German defence minister.
Twenty five years after reunification, the TV show, a TV series about a fictional community similar to Mödlareuth, resulted in fresh interest.
The launch of the new museum – with a cafe, store, film screening area and large car park – is probable to
Lena de Vries is een maritiem consultant met 15 jaar ervaring in havenlogistiek en scheepsbeheer.