"Everything is so settled here that everyone knows exactly everyone else's station and standing." So wrote Annette von Droste-Hülshoff, Germany's preeminent 19th century
poetess, 160 years ago about the Münsterland. She was born in 1797 and spent most of her life there in largely self-imposed but obviously bored literary seclusion, composing ballads and novellas, of which Die
Judenbuche (The Jews' Beech Tree) is the best known.
Today her portrait is in millions of wallets on the backsides of DM 20 notes and next year there will be a spate of events to celebrate the 200th anniversary of her birth. Yet, it often
seems as if nothing has changed in her homeland, a Delaware-sized area on the North German plain between the Dutch border and the bustling coal-mining, steel-making Ruhr basin.
Of course, there's majestic Münster itself, population 280,000, a bustling 1,200-year-old medieval city of winding cobblestone streets, Gothic churches and Renaissance patrician houses.
It was in the wood- paneled council chamber of its town hall where the Peace of Westphalia, the treaty ending the Thirty Years War, was negotiated and signed in 1648. Its splendid 13th century St. Paul's
Cathedral houses the tomb of Cardinal Clemens von Galen, the "Lion of Münster," who from the time of his appointment as bishop in 1933 until VE-Day 1945 roared loudly and preached militantly against
the Nazis, despite all attempts by Berlin and the Vatican to silence him.
Yet, even Münster seems to be in a time warp. The three cages once containing the corpses of John of Leiden and two other Anabaptist theocrats, executed in 1535, still hang as they have
for 460 years from the belfry of St. Lamberti's, the parish church. The last bones dropped down in 1850.
But the feeling that the centuries have passed by, leaving "everybody to know exactly everyone else's station," is strongest in the surrounding countryside--the actual
Münsterland: a settled landscape of woods, scattered farms, windmills, travel-poster villages with neat market squares, church spires, and a profusion of moated castles, fortresses, and manor houses all situated
on islands in man-made lakes.
These Wasserburgen and Wasserschlösser, as they are called, make the Münsterland one of Germany's most unusual and rewarding travel destinations. Nowhere else will you find as many old
chateaus in such a small area.
What makes them all the more unusual is that, unlike other German castles, they do not perch atop craggy cliffs or steep mountains but simply pop out of the level plain.
Most of them have origins in the 9th and 10th centuries, after Münster itself had become a powerful church state ruled by prince- bishops who had ecclesiastical as well as worldly
authority. Various knights and barons settled in the region as feudal lords and landed gentry. They never bothered trying to find a hill on which to build their castles because there are none. The land is as
flat as a tabletop. But it is laced by innumerable waterways. Thus, the first sites, dating back 1,000 and more years, were simply fortified houses on circular plots of land cut out of the fertile soil,
surrounded by ramparts and moats, the water for which came from re-routing and damming the many creeks and streams. By the 12th century a more elaborate style evolved; man-made mounds of earth on which the
castle stood, guarded by thick walls with towers and turrets, surrounded by artificial lakes. The chateaus, in effect, were on islands.
The advent of long-range artillery and changing geopolitics made such island redoubts obsolete. In the 17th century, the once mighty strongholds became merely the elaborate rural
estates, palaces and summer residences of the Münsterland's nobility.
Of once more than 3,000 such mansions and chateaus within a 50-mile radius of Münster, some 100 habitable ones remain, at least 40 still owned by blue-blood descendants of the knights,
barons and counts who built them.
A dozen serve as hotels or have restaurants and cafés in one of their wings or out-buildings. Some have been made into old-age homes, schools, and youth hostels. Schloss Nordkirchen
harbors a training center for internal revenue agents and tax collectors. Haus Rüschhaus, where Annette von Droste-Hülshoff lived and wrote for 24 years, is a museum commemorating this woman who had a remarkable
gift for subtle narrative and psychological insight, and was one of Europe's first feminists. And Haus Stapel has been turned into a 16-unit apartment complex.
Though Stapel still has no central heating, its tenants stay there in winter. Quite different from the Drostes, Hülshoffs, Vischerings, Westerholts, Merveldts, and other nobles of
centuries past. They always abandoned their moated chateaus in fall to weather the season in equally palatial--but heatable--town mansions and palaces in Münster. In those days, Münsterland living for the
aristocracy was rather nomadic: the Wasserschlösser in the balmier months, under the spires of St. Paul's and St. Lamberti's in the frigid season.
Unfortunately, quite a number of privately owned castles and even some used by public institutions can be viewed only from outside. The lovely parks and gardens surrounding them are
open, and you might get an inside peek by making written application weeks in advance. In some cases, though, even the grounds are off-limits. At Castle Drensteinfurt, home of the counts Von Landsberg-Velen zu
Steinfurt (the complicated names result from very complicated family relationships and a lot of aristocratic intermarriage), signs at the gate say: "No Trespassing."
But there are more than a dozen chateaus within an easy drive or stiff bike ride from Münster where visitors are definitely welcome and in which there is plenty to see.
Besides Burg Hülshoff, where Annette von Droste-Hülshoff was born in 1797, also about six miles west of central Münster is Haus Rüschhaus, where she lived from 1826 to her death in 1848.
Haus Rüschhaus, in the Münster suburb of Nienberge, is merely a modest country house that Johann Conrad Schlaun, Westphalia's most important Baroque architect, designed for himself in
1745 on property that had belonged to the bishops of Münster. Schlaun, who built and embellished many of the finest Münsterland castles, was court architect to Clemens August von Wittelsbach, the lavish chateau-
building prince-bishop of Münster who later became archbishop and elector of Cologne.
Schlaun lived at Rüschhaus until his death in 1773. Annette von Droste-Hülshoff's father bought it from Schlaun's heirs in 1825. When he died a year later, his widow and
daughters--Annette and Jenny-- moved there. Though open to the public since 1890, the Droste- Hülshoff family continued to own it until 1979, then sold it to the city of Münster and state of
Northrhine-Westphalia.
The red-brick manor is actually just a very spacious farmhouse with barn, stables and living quarters for master and servants under one roof, surrounded by a tranquil moat and
landscaped garden with charming figures of cupids that allegorize the four seasons and four elements. But for Annette von Droste-Hülshoff's many admirers, it is a veritable shrine. The half dozen rooms, filled
with Biedermeier furnishings, personal memorabilia, letters, manuscripts, pictures of her sister Jenny, and the desk at which she wrote her most important works, leave you feeling she had just stepped out for a
stroll in the garden to reconfirm how "settled" the Münsterland is.
From Nienberge it is about 12 miles west to the 1,200-year-old town of Billerbeck, birthplace of St. Liudger, the first bishop of Münster, and the Kolvenburg. From there, a quiet
country road leads 11 miles north from Billerbeck to Steinfurt, site of one of the largest and oldest of the moated castles in the Münsterland.
Wasserburg Steinfurt dates back to the year 1200, though over the centuries it has been enlarged and changed many times, due to damage and partial destruction in various wars. What you
can see today is predominantly from the 1700s. The complex consists of two parts, each surrounded by lake-like moats, and are connected by bridges. It is the private residence of the Princes zu
Bentheim-Steinfurt, so that just a few parts of the castle--the knights' hall and the chapel--can be viewed from the inside, and those only by groups and by application. But the grounds are open to the public
during daylight hours.
For an idea of what life was like in the Münsterland long before Annette von Droste-Hülshoff's time, head 17 miles southwest of Münster to the town of Lüdinghausen and its Vischering
Castle.
Burg Vischering, still owned by the same family that built it in 1271, the Counts Droste zu Vischering, though used as the Coesfeld County Münsterland Museum, is just what you would
expect of a Medieval castle: fortified, impregnable, and not very hospitable. Some 725 years ago the then Droste zu Vischering was lord steward (which is what the word Droste actually means in Low German) to
Münster's prince-bishop. He built this fortress as a bastion against the rebellious knights of Lüdinghausen.
The semi-circular stronghold has walls and parapets five feet thick, all under a saddle roof, a tower in the central courtyard, and a wide, deep moat that also protects the outbuildings
of the forecourt. It remained unconquered for centuries.
Inside be sure to see the huge knights' hall with its oak-beamed ceiling and brass chandeliers, the wainscoted bay window room, and the collection of Gothic and Renaissance furnishings,
artifacts, tools, paintings, and illuminated manuscripts.
If Burg Vischering is the incarnation of the Middle Ages, then Nordkirchen Palace, five miles southeast of Lüdinghausen, is the dazzling embodiment of sumptuous North German Baroque.
Schloss Nordkirchen is called the "Versailles of Westphalia." The label is not just local braggadocio. Versailles was what Prince- Bishop Count Friedrich Christian von
Plettenberg envisioned as a model when, in 1694, he bought the original moated castle of Nordkirchen from a local nobleman and commissioned architect Gottfried Pictorius to turn that modest property into a grand
summer residence, replete with landscaped park and canals for pleasure boats.
Money, he said, should be no obstacle, so Pictorious spent what was then a king's ransom--240,000 thalers--to create a vast palace in the style of French chateaus. Neither the bishop
nor his builder lived to see completion of the project, and it was Plettenberg's nephew Ferdinand who retained Johann Conrad Schlaun to finish the job.
It is one of Germany's largest, most lavishly appointed palaces: a complex of eight huge wings extending from a central tract in a strikingly harmonious juxtaposition of maroon-colored
brick with carved sandstone embellishments. The 430-acre park surrounding the lake and canals is dotted with manicured lawns and flowerbeds, statues of Greco-Roman gods and goddesses, cupids, satyrs, and figures
of hunting dogs and charging wild boars. Chestnut trees, 200 years old, line the lanes and paths.
Though the building is now owned and used by Northrhine-Westphalia's finance ministry as a training center for its tax agents, the ornate rooms and chambers--all splashes of intricate
stucco work with gold leaf and ceiling frescoes--can be viewed on one-hour guided tours Saturday, Sunday, and holiday afternoons. And if you need a break, you'll find a comfortable, moderately priced restaurant,
open for lunch and dinner, in the vaulted cellar of the main wing.
The Münsterland aristocracy's dogged adherence to family traditions and tenacious desire to preserve their moated old digs, even against economic headwinds such as the recession in
prices for timber from their forests, is expressed at two castles owned by Count Ferdinand Johannes von Merveldt: Westerwinkel and Lembeck.
Schloss Westerwinkel, near the village of Ascheberg-Hebern, six miles northeast of Nordkirchen and 14 south of Münster, has a history going back to the 13th century and has been owned
by the Merveldts for more than 400 years. The present complex of gray stone buildings with lozenge-shaped black-white shutters on the windows is surrounded by a double moat and a lush landscape of pastures,
woods and farms. It dates from the 1660s when the castle was reconstructed in late- Renaissance and early-Baroque style. It's hard to picture a more pastoral place: peacocks strut in the inner courtyard, horses
graze on a nearby meadow, ducks quack in the moat, doves and pigeons susuratte from their lofts under the slate roof.
Farming, forestry and property development are the Merveldt family's main business, and the count has his office in one of the wings. But, to help pay for Westerwinkel's upkeep, the
representational rooms and living quarters have been made into a museum-like exhibition of what life was like for the landed gentry in the days when one knew "exactly everyone's station and standing."
Those rooms, crammed with family heirlooms and bric-a-brac, are open to the public on guided tours every afternoon except Monday.
Schloss Lembeck, near the town of Lembeck, 30 miles west of Westerwinkel, is a larger, grander and even older Merveldt chateau. Its origins go back to the 12th century and has been
family property for 600 years. It has stood in its present sandstone Baroque splendor since completion of the last reconstruction and enlargement in 1692, the 300th anniversary of which was celebrated with
concerts, folk festivals, theater performances, and equestrian tournaments at the castle four years ago.
The Merveldts actually resided in Schloss Lembeck until the 1970s. Then maintenance costs, especially the heating bill, got too high. Count Ferdinand Johannes, his wife and their
children moved into one of the garden cottages; his widowed mother into one of the outbuildings of the forecourt. But they were determined to preserve the chateau as a landmark. They opened an art gallery on the
second floor of the main wing of the vast two-story structure; turned another tract into a moderately-priced hotel with cellar restaurant where you dine in candlelight, surrounded by hunting trophies and
medieval armor; installed a museum of Westphalian rural life and handicrafts in one of the outbuildings; and began renting out the 200- seat Baroque banquet hall, designed by Johann Conrad Schlaun, for chamber
concerts and wedding receptions. They also opened the landscaped park, 150-foot-long main hallway, lined by hand-painted Delft tiles, and ornate chambers and reception rooms to the public. Revenues from all
these acti ities pay for keeping the castle in pristine, almost-lived-in condition.
The stucco ceilings, silk wallpapers, Flemish tapestries, Delft-tile wainscoting, crystal chandeliers, portraits of Merveldt ancestors and collections of bibelots are certainly
mind-boggling enough. But the most awesome sight on the guided one-hour tour is a 12-foot-high, intricately carved and inlaid walnut china cupboard, crafted by an 18th century cabinetmaker, that stands in the
family dining room. Crammed from bottom to top with precious porcelain and crystal, it is called a Pralhans (German for braggart) because the fragile treasures in it were never used and the doors opened only
when there were important guests--to flaunt the family's wealth.
Schloss Lembeck is open daily, March through October.
An approximate 25-mile drive or ride further west leads to the town of Isselburg, site of Anholt Castle.
Wasserburg Anholt is the largest privately owned chateau in the Münsterland and the most dramatic in appearance--a three-story maze- like complex of red brick, slate roofs, turrets and
towers. It is also the most dazzling inside, and a storehouse of treasures that includes paintings by Rembrandt, Ter Borch, Teniers, and Murillo.
Anholt's history, starting with its construction as a moated fort, of which the 90-foot keep from 1169 still stands, is one of frequent enlargement and many sieges right into the early
19th century when a combined Russian-Prussian army of 14,000 defeated one of Napoleon's forces just beyond the moat. Even in modern times Anholt became a stronghold. It was a German army outpost in the last
weeks of World War II and was 70 percent destroyed by Allied air and artillery bombardment in 1945. Prince Nikolaus Leopold zu Salm-Salm, head of the family, aided by Northrhine-Westphalian state subsidies,
devoted 30 years from 1954 to 1984 to its rebuilding and restoration. To give the reconstruction historical authenticity, medieval bricks from farmhouses, barns, and stables all over the Münsterland were used.
A one-hour guided tour of the interior includes the original keep with its dungeon and collection of old armor; the magnificent library with more than 5,000 precious books; the ornate
reception rooms; and the princely art collection of 800 Dutch, Flemish, German, Italian, and Spanish Old Master paintings.
In addition to the chateau with all its history and art treasures, there are a luxury hotel and gourmet restaurant in one of the forecourt buildings, and an 18-hole golf course adjacent
to the castle gardens.
From Anholt it is about an hour's drive--or day's bike ride--back to Münster, unless, of course, you've elected to stay in one of the castles that are hotels.
Most castles are open daily except for Monday. For more information, including on nearby hotel accommodations, contact Stadt Münster, City Promotion and Tourist Office, Klemenstrasse
10, D-48143 Münster, Tel. 011.49.251.4922710, Fax. 011.49.251.4927742.
In the United States, contact the German National Tourist Office, 122 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10168, Tel. (212) 661-7200, Fax. (212) 661-7174.
Contributing editor John Dornberg writes from Munich.
CASTLES FROM THE OUTSIDE ONLY
Haus Havixbeck in Havixbeck six miles west of Münster, is a 16th century Renaissance mansion that is the ancestral home and private property of the Barons von Twickel family. The
exterior can be seen from beyond the moats 7:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. week-days.
Wasserschloss Ahaus in Ahaus, 34 miles northwest of Münster. The palace has been the property of the bishops of Münster since the 14th century, and was rebuilt in its present style in
the 17th century, with additions and changes by Johann Conrad Schlaun in the 18th. It is used for concerts and is the scene of a fireworks festival every October.
Haus Welbergen in Ochtrup, about 18 miles north of Ahaus, is a 16th century castle surrounded by a double moat system and has served since 1959 as a repository of German and Dutch art
from private collections.
Wasserburg Gemen in Borken, 15 miles south of Ahaus, dates back to around 1100 and has remained largely unchanged in its appearance since the early 15th century. It has been leased by
the diocese of Münster since 1946 and serves as a youth hotel and Catholic youth congress center.
Schloss Loburg in Telgte-Ostbevern, 11 miles northeast of Münster, is an early-20th century neo-Baroque reconstruction of the original moated palace, destroyed in a fire. It is a
Catholic boarding school today.
Wasserschloss Vornholz in Ennigerloh-Ostenfelde, about 12 miles southeast of Münster, looks much as it did when built in the 17th century and is the home of the Von Nagel family.
Haus Surenberg in Hörstel, 27 miles north of Münster, is one of the most picturesque moated mansions in the region. It was purchased in the 18th century by Carl van Zuydtwyck, a Dutch
aristocrat, and is the private residence of his descendants today. The exteriors can be viewed from the outer moat.
Schloss Cappenberg in Selm, about six miles south of Nordkirchen, has remained largely unchanged since the 17th century. It is used by Unna County as a space for rotating art exhibits
and is open to the public then. The park and grounds are open weekdays starting at 2 p.m., Saturdays and Sundays from 11 a.m., April through September.
GETTING AROUND
Driving is best if you want to see a half dozen or more of the castles within a few days. Signs point to them in and around the towns and villages where they are located, but detailed
road maps help nonetheless. You'll find useful ones in the "HB Bild Atlas" for Münsterland, No. 31. The text is in German only.
Münster and the Münsterland are Germany's leading bicycle region. Bicycle routes to all castles within a 50 mile radius of the city are well marked. A pocket-size booklet for
cyclists--"Die 100 Schlösser Route" with map, hotel and restaurant listings, and addresses of bicycle rental shops and stations in 135 towns--is available from most hotel concierges, Münster's
municipal tourist office (Stadtwerbung und Touristik), Klemensstr. 9, D-48127 Münster, Tel. 011.49.251.4922710, Fax. 4927743, and from Münsterland Touristik Zentrale, Hohe Schule 13, D-48565 Steinfurt, Tel.
011.49.2551.939291, Fax. 939293.
In Münster bikes can be rented in the Hauptbahnhof (main station) from Deutsche Bahn A.G. (the rental place is at the baggage check counter), Tel. 011.49.251.691320; the ADFC
(Allgemeiner Deutscher Fahrrad Club) Fahrradverleih, Westfalen-Tankstelle, Sentrupper Str. 169, D-48149 Münster, Tel. 011.49.251.81112; and Hansen K.G., Hörsterstr. 7, D-48143 Münster, Tel. 011.49.251.44998.
MOATED CASTLE HOTELS
Münster Hotel Schloss Wilkinhege is a 16th century moated castle, about 10 minutes drive from the city center on the road leading to Haus Rüschhaus and Havixbeck, with 34 rooms. The
restaurant has two Gault- Millau toques. Doubles DM 245 to 285. Steinfurter Str. 374, D-48159 Münster, Tel. 011.49.251.213045, Fax. 212898.
Park Hotel Schloss Hohenfeld has 90 rooms in modern wings and tracts added to the 18th century manor house, surrounded by a landscaped park. Doubles DM 215 to 230. Dingb nger Weg 400,
D-48161 Münster- Roxel, Tel. 011.49.2534.8080, Fax. 7114.
Senden
Schloss Senden, about 12 miles southwest of Münster, is a moated Renaissance castle. After World War II it was briefly the residence of Princess Luise of Prussia, a granddaughter of
Kaiser William II, and was then used as a student dormitory and nursing home until converted into a 43 room hotel with restaurant in 1987. Doubles DM 128 to 148. Schloss Senden, D-48308 Senden, Tel.
011.49.2597.380, Fax. 6459.
Lembeck
Schlosshotel Lembeck is in one wing of 17th century Lembeck castle, owned by the Merveldt family, but has only 10 rooms. Doubles DM 198. Schloss 1, D-46286 Dorsten-Lenbeck, Tel.
011.49.2369.7213, Fax. 77370.
Velen
Sportschloss Velen, 32 miles west of Münster, is a 17th-18th century Baroque castle, previously used as a school, that was turned into a deluxe hotel with 111 rooms in the main palace,
wings and outbuildings. Doubles DM 290 to 320. Schloss Velen, D-46342 Velen, Tel. 011.49.2863.2030, Fax. 203788.
Isselburg-Anholt
Parkhotel Wasserburg Anholt is a luxury category hotel in the outbuilding and stable tract of the moated castle, with 28 rooms. Doubles DM 220 to 390. Klever Strasse, D-46419
Isselburg-Anholt, Tel. 011.49.2874.4590, Fax. 4035.
Bocholt
Hotel Schloss Diepenbrock, in Bocholt, 50 miles west of Münster, belongs to Baron Wilhelm von Graes who lives with his family in the moated manor house on the castle grounds. The hotel
itself, managed by Baroness Maria Paz von Graes, an interior architecture and fashion designer, is a replica of a red brick, gabled Münsterland farmhouse with 23 rooms. Doubles DM 220 to 255. Schlossallee 5,
D-46397 Bocholt- Barlo, Tel. 011.49.2871.3545, Fax. 39607.
MÜNSTER-WHERE HISTORY LIVES
"Six years I have been here now, but I have never seen you except dripping in rain," Count Fabio Chigi, later known as Pope Alexander VII, complained toward the close of his
tour in Münster as the Vatican's delegate to the drawn out peace talks that ended the Thirty Years War.
Being an Italian, he naturally hungered for some sunshine.
Today, nearly 350 years later, it seems sometimes that little has changed in Münster.
It still rains a lot. So much that even Münsteraners sigh resignedly: "It is either raining or church bells are ringing." Fortunately, there are a lot of churches: nearly a
dozen of architectural importance just within the kilometer-square Altstadt (old quarter), each with bells ringing at different times. And each, fortunately, has enough significant artworks to view and keep you
dry. That way the precipitation problem becomes less troublesome.
In the Rathaus (city hall) you can still see the ornate, wood- paneled 16th century court and council room, now called the Friedenssaal (Peace Chamber), where Count Chigi and other
diplomats signed the Peace of Westphalia in 1648.
Or, if you peek out from under your umbrella to the belfry of one of those many churches, St. Lamberti's, you can see three cages hanging above the clock. They contained the
corpses--and later skeletons--of John of Leiden and two other Anabaptist theocrats, executed after they had tyrannized this city for two years. It took three centuries for the last of their bones to drop through
to the square below.
Yet, "no change" is an illusion, because what you see today is virtually all postwar reconstruction. Few other German cities were so heavily damaged in World War II. Allied
air raids left more than 90 percent of Münster a rubble heap.
But unlike many other towns, where burghers and officials jettisoned the old and rebuilt in often faceless modern style, Münsteraners recreated their city to resemble its past
appearance as closely as possible. They reconstructed 13th century St. Paul's Cathedral, the Gothic Rathaus, the step-gabled Medieval merchants' houses and arcades along the Prinzipalmarkt, and even some of the
ornate town palaces of the landed gentry--the Droste-Hülshoffs, Merveldts, Vischerings, Heeremanns, and others--who escaped to the city when Westphalia's icy winters made their Wasserschlösser inhospitable and
uninhabitable. The result is a vibrant, lived-in and worked-in town that embodies the long history of Münster.
Theodor Heuss, West Germany's first president, called it "the most successful urban construction in the country."
Local boosters proudly describe it as "one of the most beautiful among Germany's beauties."
To see and explore it, you must do as Münsteraners do: walk or bike. Bicycles are virtually the only vehicles permitted in the center. Everybody owns at least one, and 70 percent of the
locals travel to work and do their shopping on two-wheelers. To encourage and accommodate them, municipal authorities have set up a bewildering network of bicycle parking lots, lanes and paths, and even a
traffic- lights system that gives priority to cyclists.
Münster was founded in 793 by St. Liudger, a missionary monk, who established a fortified monastery with outbuildings a few yards from the present cathedral. He named it
"Monasterium," which eventually got Germanized into Münster. The cathedral dates from 1225. It was faithfully rebuilt after World War II and is one of the finest examples of late-Romanesque
architecture in Germany. Cardinal Clemens August von Galen, Münster's bishop, delivered his anti-Nazi sermons from the pulpit.
In May 1945, the Wehrmacht (German Armed Forces) surrendered unconditionally to the Allies, and World War II was over. The Germans waited anxiously to learn of the future the winners
would plan for them at Potsdam. London and Paris too looked to the United States for guidance. Yet none was forthcoming. During the summer of 1945, Washington had as little answer to the question "What to
do with Germany?" as anyone else. Why?
The absence of a comprehensive plan was largely due to the inability of American President Franklin D. Roosevelt and his administrations to reach a consensus over the fate of Germany
once the war was won. Determined not to repeat the mistakes of the Treaty Versailles, Washington began discussing its options after September 1939. Almost immediately, competing camps emerged and created a
struggle for influence over the president and U.S. policy that at times all but paralyzed planning for postwar Germany and Europe.
A group around Secretary of State Cordell Hull argued that the Treaty of Versailles had been too harsh on Germany. Hurt pride and economic hardship, he reasoned, prepared the ground for
the rise of Hitler and his policy of revenge against external enemies such as France, Great Britain, and the United States, as well as against internal enemies such as socialists, Jews, war profiteers, and the
criminals of November 1918 who had "stabbed Germany in the back." Thus Hull believed the next peace would have to be more lenient to allow the Germans to integrate themselves into the family of
nations.
Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau's supporters believed that the Treaty of Versailles had been too lenient. Since the Germans would always want revenge, the next peace would
have to make it physically impossible for them to start another war. If this meant the de-industrialization and break-up of Germany into separate states, so be it.
The group headed by President Roosevelt supported a third option. For him, Germany and its future were secondary to a worldwide alliance to preserve peace and bring prosperity to the
postwar world. The success of this supra-national organization, which FDR modeled consciously after Woodrow Wilson's ill-fated League of Nations, rested on the continuous and open cooperation with the other
world power that would emerge from this war--the Soviet Union. Until that issue was settled, FDR preferred to see all political decisions concerning Germany postponed.
Lenient, harsh, postponement: from 1939 to 1945, U.S. planning went through distinct phases, each reflecting that school of thought that had gained temporary ascendancy.
During the first phase from September 1939 to December 1941, American sympathies were with Great Britain, though the US was technically a neutral power. FDR formulated war aims on the
basis of ethical principles and moral values. On January 6, 1941, he proclaimed the achievement of the Four Freedoms, i.e., Freedom of Speech, Freedom of Worship, Freedom from Want, and Freedom from Fear and a
New Deal for the peoples of this world as his goals.
Following Nazi Germany's attack on the Soviet Union, the Atlantic Charter of August 1941 expanded upon these principles: it renounced territorial gain, acknowledged the right of
self-determination of nations, and promised to work toward the creation of a world-wide security system for the preservation of peace. Policy toward Germany would be determined in cooperation with the allies and
signatories of the Atlantic Charter.
Then came Pearl Harbor and the German declaration of war. On December 9, 1941, FDR informed Congress and the world that this time "We are going to win the war, and we are going to
win the peace that follows." Military victory came first: at Casablanca in January 1943, the allies agreed to demand the "unconditional surrender" of their enemies.
To win the peace, the war-time alliance would need to be maintained during peace-time as well. Improving relations with the Soviet Union took priority during this second phase of U.S.
planning. FDR thought that honest and full cooperation would convince Stalin that he could trust the U.S., which would make him give up his desire for a protective ring of buffer states on his western frontier.
The Soviets needed to rebuild after the massive destruction wrought by the war. Stalin would need the U.S. and its resources, and American economic aid would alleviate Soviet security needs. Germany would be the
testing ground for U.S.-Soviet cooperation: "The whole transitional period will have to be one of trial and error," said FDR on October 1, 1943. If "trial and error" had characterized FDR's
approach to New Deal legislation, the tendency to postpone decisions was his greatest personal fault. It severely weakened the American bargaining position in negotiations with the Allies, most importantly
during the third phase of planning from early 1943 to May 1945.
Casablanca was to end the discussion over the future of Germany and Europe, but Secretary Hull immediately voiced his objections to unconditional surrender. This stood in opposition to
the Atlantic Charter, would stiffen German resistance, and would force the Allies to occupy and run Germany for an indeterminate period after the war: unconditional surrender could not be a substitute for a
policy plan for Germany. Supported by the War Department, Hull reminded FDR that the U.S. had to know, at least in sketch, what to do in Germany after the war was won.
It was the American political left around Secretary Morgenthau that took up Hull's gauntlet and gained FDR's ear during 1943 and 1944. At Casablanca, FDR had called for "the
destruction of a philosophy in Germany, Italy, and Japan which is based on the conquest and subjugation of other peoples." A few weeks later, he opined that he was "not willing at this time to say that
we do not intend to destroy the German nation" if that should become necessary. At Quebec in August 1943, and again in Teheran in December 1943, FDR supported British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden's
proposal that Germany should be divided into three or more states, a demand that the Soviet Union had raised as early as December 1941 and repeated ever since, e.g., May 1942 in London.
In the U.S., the supporters of a harsh peace for Germany felt that their time had come. In April of 1944, Morgenthau submitted a 14- point program to FDR that would transform Germany
into two small agrarian states under international control. Heavy industry would be destroyed, schools and universities closed, reparations of undefined amounts and duration levied. FDR agreed. On his way to
meet British Prime Minister Winston Churchill in Quebec, he told reporters on August 26, 1944: "We have got to be tough with Germany and I mean the German people not just the Nazis. We either have to
castrate the German people or you have got to treat them in such a manner [so that] they can't go on reproducing people who want to continue the way they have in the past."
When details of the plan, initialed by FDR and Churchill in September 1944, leaked out, American public opinion voiced near unanimous opposition. As 1944 was an election year, FDR
quickly withdrew his support for fear of losing votes in the November elections. Postponement reasserted itself: "I dislike making plans for a country we do not yet occupy. Speed in these matters is not an
essential [as] it takes people's thoughts off winning the war," wrote FDR to his Secretary of State on October 20, 1944, and on October 25 ordered an end to all planning for post-war Germany. When FDR met
Stalin and Churchill at Yalta in February 1945, the U.S. still had no plan for post-war Europe and Germany.
While the need to address the future political organization of Europe had become urgent by early 1945, developments on the battlefield had severely weakened the Western bargaining
position. Soviet troops occupied most of Eastern Europe and had entered German territory. It became clear at Yalta that Stalin would get to keep the loot from Hitler-Stalin Pact of 1939: it was his price for
entering the war against Japan.
As FDR promoted his plan of a United Nations and continued U.S.- Soviet cooperation, Churchill, alarmed at FDR's willingness to hand Eastern Europe over to the Soviets and fearful of a
European continent at the mercy of Stalin, worked hard to prevent the adoption of even harsher policies toward Germany. Concerning Germany, the Allies agreed to four zones of occupation, joint control of Berlin,
the creation of an Allied Control Council, and the establishment of a Reparations Commission with a $10 billion figure for the U.S. as a basis for future negotiations. Together they were "to take such
steps, including the complete disarmament, demilitarization, and the dismemberment of Germany as they deem requisite for future peace and security."
But that was not clear enough for the U.S. military, which would have to run its zone in Germany. The Joint Chiefs of Staff formulated an occupation policy of their own: the Joint
Chiefs of Staff Directive 1067. Subject only to minor modifications at Potsdam, JCS 1067, in its draft of April 26, 1945, defined occupation policy until July 1947. The harsh set of instructions invested General
Dwight D. Eisenhower "with supreme legislative, executive, and judicial authority" in his zone. The Germans were responsible for the war; they were to be treated as a defeated, not a liberated, nation.
Eisenhower was "to take no steps toward the economic rehabilitation of Germany [or such] that would tend to support basic living conditions in Germany on a higher ground than that existing in any one of the
neighboring states."
JCS 1067 was a statement of occupation policy--but unless the US intended to occupy Germany, or its zone, for an indefinite period of time, its usefulness was limited. FDR finally
seemed to realize that as well, and on February 28, 1945, instructed his new Secretary of State, Edward R. Stettinius Jr., to formulate a set of political directives for Germany. His memo of March 10 abandoned
the decisions of Yalta as well JCS 1067: Germany was to be treated as a viable political and economic unit. The military government would form the central authority for all Germans until de-nazification and re-
education had made them fit for self-government. On March 22, FDR, the State, War, and Treasury Departments tentatively agreed to the proposal. Ten days later, on April 12, 1945, Franklin D. Roosevelt died.
Harry S. Truman became President, five weeks later, the German Wehrmacht surrendered.
When the victors met at Potsdam in July 1945, Stalin was in a supreme bargaining position. FDR was dead, Clement Attlee replaced Churchill; and, with France's General Charles de Gaulle,
a fourth player entered the picture who, as often as not, would support the more stringent Soviet policies toward Germany. There was no agreement concerning the future of Germany either within the Truman
administration or among the Allies. Postponement had won the day: Germany would indeed become the testing ground for Russo-American cooperation. That this would be difficult became clear the very first day, when
Stalin stated categorically that Germany had ceased to exist outside the four occupation zones. When Truman suggested treating "Germany" as an entity within the borders of 1937, Stalin retorted:
"Minus what she lost in 1945."
Stalin was prepared to treat the remainder of Germany as an economic unit, if nothing else in order to get reparations in kind from the Ruhr Valley, which lay in the British Zone, but
announced that in the eleven administrative units established in his zone on August 25 only "truly democratic and antifascist" movements would be allowed. When France's General de Gaulle, who had not
even been invited to the conference, backed Russian opposition to the creation of central political authorities and began to undertake unilateral political and economic actions in his zone as well, the U.S. and
Great Britain had no choice but to follow suit.
Potsdam showed that it would be hard indeed to reconcile the conflicting interests of the four powers once the reason for the alliance--Nazi Germany--was gone. Reparations vs. a viable
German economy, Socialism vs. capitalism and free enterprise, one-party state vs. a multi-party democracy: it is easy to claim with hindsight that the leaders in Washington should have known that those
principles were incompatible. But by the summer of 1945, the path had been laid, not so much by the agreements of Casablanca, Teheran, and Yalta, but by the lack of decisions in Washington. This failure was as
much rooted in the personality traits of an exhausted and weakening president, in deteriorating health since the fall of 1944, as it was in the clash of ideologies within the wartime administrations.
As it happened, the peace conference on Germany did not actually happen until 1990, and then brought about a political and economic unit called Germany that many American planners may
have likely envisioned in 1945.
Historian Robert A. Selig writes from Holland, Michigan.
In the autumn of 1994, when the American, British, French, and Russian troops withdrew from unified Germany, the once-again sovereign country faced the legacy of more than 10,000
abandoned military sites.
The large majority were located in former eastern Germany, where some 500,000 Soviet troops had been stationed. Thus, Federal Minister of Finance, Theo Waigel, responded to the
unexpected windfall with a bout of generosity: he offered this property to the eastern Länder.
But like most bargains, there was a hitch. The barracks were badly neglected, the military training areas littered with live ammunition, and strips of land riddled with underground
air-raid shelters. Repairs and conversion would cost millions of deutschmarks.
Unlike most states, Brandenburg accepted. They are now the proud owner of 80 complexes of barracks, 26 residential areas, 19 airfields, 60 military training grounds, 33 radar stations
and air-raid shelters and several other objects.
The big question was what to do with the "Waigel gift?" Should the barracks be destroyed or restored for civilian use? Should the training grounds be cleaned or turned into
wildlife reserves? Could the underground shelters be filled in or would the areas above have to remain empty?
Two years later, many questions still remain unanswered. This is also true of the Soviet headquarters in Wünsdorf, 30 kilometers south of Berlin. Here, Brandenburg state founded a
special company to tackle the conversion of the military base once home to 40,000 troops and civilians.
Wünsdorf's history as a garrison goes back to the turn of the 20th century. Inhabitants saw the German imperial army arrive, witnessed its replacement by the Nazi Wehrmacht, and watched
as the Soviet forces overran the military compound in 1945.
In 1953 the Supreme Command of the German Group of the Soviet Armed Forces set up headquarters in Wünsdorf. For the next 40 years, the largest military unit stationed abroad in the
world received orders from within a garrison surrounded by 10 miles of walls. And they policy of separation between military and civilians the Soviets enacted everywhere.
Since the departure of the troops, the walls have just once opened for the public. Except for infrequent construction noises, the only sound is the hum from the nearby main road. Empty
playgrounds among the 870 deserted buildings evoke the cheers of the officers' children. Their parents' role in East Germany is portrayed on huge billboards with glorified pictures of army tanks.
Jürgen Baumann, manager of the Development Corporation Wünsdorf, is convinced that by the year 2010 the empty town will once again teem with life. Then the new residents can decide
whether to retain the name of "Waldstadt" proposed because of the green woods and parks interspersing the grounds.
Baumann estimates that the corporation's investment of DM 360 million will, in the coming 10 years, trigger some DM 1.5 billion in private investment. Yet while the housing projects
have nearly been settled, and 1,000 civil servants will resume residence and jobs in the next two years, retail investment is still slack. Too many similar projects mushroom in Berlin's vicinity.
"We have to keep our goal in mind and ensure that we approach it daily, step by step," says Baumann, recently described as a "golden optimist" by a German magazine.
The 2,800 inhabitants of the civilian Wünsdorf just across the main road are, however, slowly becoming impatient. "For 50 years the presence of troops affected Wünsdorf more than
any other place," says mayor Hans-Dieter Linke. "I think by now too many people are involved in planning and nothing really results from it."
Citizens want the roads (potholed by 50 years of Soviet Army vehicle traffic) repaired. Shop managers suffered considerable losses once their Soviet customers and badly need business to
pick up again. Some 200 people from the area formerly employed at the garrison's tank repair shop are still in need of new jobs. Nevertheless, despite all financial worries, the troops are not much missed. On
the contrary, the Wünsdorfers enjoy the quiet streets where children can safely play again.
Like everywhere in East Germany the blue and brown uniforms of the "loyal comrades-in-arms of the glorious Soviet Army" were a common feature in Wünsdorf. And the mass of army
vehicles, whose drivers constantly ignored all traffic rules, were considered a real danger.
Shopping worked both ways and Germans sometimes found food unavailable elsewhere in the Russian "Magazines." However, the exchange of items like watches, heating material,
gas, tools, and sometimes weapons took place in secret. Paid nothing but a pittance, Soviet soldiers flogged anything they could lay their hands on in the barracks and found a ready market in the communist
economy of short supply.
In contrast to these clandestine transactions, the official meetings arranged by the "German-Soviet Friendship" organization were dreary encounters. Though meant to promote
friendship, anything but superficial small talk between Germans and Soviets was, ironically, not only discouraged but forbidden.
The German population came to acknowledge the military's presence as an immutable evil. "The Friends", a term pronounced with delight or derision according to the situation,
were neither feared nor revered. And even where contact would have been possible, Germans preferred to ignore them.
The garrison of Karlshorst, for example, was located inside East Berlin itself and mainly manned with officers of the Soviet army and the secret service KGB. Although the fraternization
ban applied, the officers and their families had more leeway than elsewhere and German and Soviet families sometimes inhabited the same building.
Vera Stutz-Bischitzky, today a translator and editor of Russian books, was among the few Germans who did not shy away from the Soviets. She had been born in Karlshorst in 1950, and
these foreign people had always interested her.
At the age of 13, she ventured into the military compound to try out her basic school Russian. Once on the base she would chat with soldiers tending the tanks or feeding the pigs and
she would buy cream at the all-Russian shop as a special treat for her mother.
Stutz-Bischitzky did not mind that her school friends, who like the majority of East Germans learned Russian only grudgingly, considered her genuine interest as slightly weird.
"I felt drawn to the company of the Soviet people and thought they were the greatest," Stutz-Bischitzky recalls today. "I never gave it a thought that I might get into
difficulty, me as a girl among all the soldiers. And I never did. They were always very open, warmhearted and friendly to me."
Although she sharply criticizes Soviet and Russian politics, Stutz- Bischitzky very much regrets that Russian culture does not gain the interest it deserves. But she has not been back
to Karlshorst in a long time.
Because of its alleged mixture of military, communists, and secret service residents, the district is still unpopular with most Berliners. The federal government, nonetheless, devotes
special attention to Karlshorst.
So far the government has bought 177 apartments, the renovation allowance of which triples the amount spent on any other Allied property. Their facades freshly painted, these buildings
are not only little jewels amongst the other grey dwellings, but bring back the architectural beauty of the area.
Helmut John at the Federal Property Office in Berlin suspects "political reasons" behind the government's choice. He says that the investment at this prominent garrison serves
to prove that the Soviet legacy is not disdained.
Still, the present activities are nothing but a cosmetic operation. The planned construction of 200 houses and 700 flats as well as the restoration of the residential and military
buildings deteriorating by the day, are continuously postponed. Both town developers and government officials fear that any newly created living space will remain empty until the government actually moves to
Berlin.
In order to balance at least some of the millions of deutschmarks spent on guarding empty buildings and sites and to prevent decay, the property office now issues temporary leases.
Among all the derelict and run-down houses, one freshly renovated former KGB-barrack stands out. It is currently used as a training college. Other tenants are more inconspicuous. Only small signs point to the
charity that uses some barracks to house Bosnian refugees, or the Gauck-Authority that stores files from the Stasi secret service in heavily guarded containers.
The "Museum Berlin-Karlshorst" on Russian-German relations since 1917 is the only permanently converted object. After Soviet troops captured the building in April 1945, the
final signing of capitulation took place on the premises and confirmed the end of World War II. Today not much remains of the building's past.
It used to house a very different type of exhibition. From 1967 to 1994, the "Museum on the Unconditional Surrender of Fascist Germany in the Great Patriotic War 1941-1945"
glorified the Soviet Union.
This socialist show emphasized the role of the Red Army as liberator and the suffering of the Soviet People by the Nazi regime of horror. Soviet troops, undisputedly, had the most
casualties during World War II, but official policies never referred to the wave of rape, pillaging and cruelty, committed by Soviet soldiers, that accompanied Germany's liberation.
Neither did the exhibition refer to the real background of the events of June 17, 1953, named "fascist putsch" in socialist terminology. That day, hundreds of thousands East
Germans took to the streets demanding the government's resignation and free elections. By evening, Soviet tanks had crushed the demonstration, arrested 20,000 people, and started executing alleged instigators.
Due to the museum's remote location, it is mostly school classes or educational groups that visit the completely new and extensively documented exhibition nowadays. Several entries by
individual Germans and Russians in the visitors' book speak of the sorrows inflicted on people in the name of both nations. Other entries complain that detailed information on the Soviet troops and their impact
is missing.
It was to fill this gap that Dieter Kiesslich, an employee with the Development Corporation in Wünsdorf, conceived the idea of a different kind of museum. Kiesslich admits that, like
most of his east German compatriots, he knew only little about the Soviet troops. Although he enjoyed the mentality of Russians he met on business trips, he had no particular liking for any kind of military.
But when the amateur historian realized that the gutting of garrisons would demolish all traces of the past, he founded the Association of Military History in Wünsdorf.
"We must acknowledge that the Soviets were stationed here for 45 years, in which they were either celebrated as heroes or condemned as the devil," says Kiesslich. "I
simply believe we owe this kind of museum to history, especially as we Germans are fond of dodging our past."
Kiesslich and some of his 20 collaborators are among the few people granted permanent entrance into the compound. Their collection, by now the largest in the whole of Germany, includes
the telephone operating table from which the final closure of Wünsdorf was confirmed to Moscow. They saved furniture from dormitories and prisons, documents from offices, ammunition from uniform pockets, and
weapons from training grounds. Among the many items they found on rubbish heaps were uniforms and pictures explaining every little detail of garrison life to the many non-Russian speaking soldiers.
Their first small, three-day exhibition last September drew an amazing crowd of 4,700 people. This response encouraged Kiesslich to specify plans for a permanent museum, a Russian
restaurant, and a cultural center in one of the Wünsdorf villas. He hopes to raise enough money to open in eight years time.
Such interest, as well as the 60,000 people who watched the farewell parades in Karlshorst in 1994 and gave cakes and flowers to the departing soldiers, flabbergasts military expert
Volker Koop.
"Many people, unless they had been directly victimized, started to glorify the troops," he says. "This change took place when the troops were certain to leave and when
GDR citizens turned into citizens of the Federal Republic of Germany. I cannot understand how they can suddenly ignore the 20,000 crimes Soviet soldiers committed each year."
This information was, however, never readily available and Koop himself only discovered it by accident. Working as a press officer with the western Ministry of Defense in 1991, he came
across an abundant supply of files compiled by the GDR Military Prosecutor and listing the crimes of Soviet soldiers. Koop's recently published book Between Law and Despotism. The Red Army in Germany, gives
impressive examples of the 20,000 crimes that 500,000 soldiers committed against 16 million East Germans.
Between January 1980 and June 1981, for example, Soviet drivers caused 1,790 of the 2,135 accidents they were involved in, injuring 666 people and killing 69 East Germans and 36
Soviets. Each year, members of the military committed 1,500 burglaries in houses, factories, shops and apartments. Each week, at least one woman or girl became a victim of rape. And the list includes also
incidents of murder, arson, and theft of munitions.
The figures remain well below the crime statistics of any larger city. Koop says he is not so much concerned with the number of incidents but with the fact that military authorities
behaved as occupiers until the very end. They prevented crimes from being investigated, ignored daily letters of complaints by German prosecutors, and intimidated, blackmailed and ridiculed victims.
In order to avoid public outrage, German authorities often paid compensation to victims. The Politburo of the SED (East Germany's Socialist Unity Party) as well as the East German
Ministry of National Defense were well aware of the Soviets' status. Koop found a bit of formerly classified information dating from 1988 explicitly stating that under international law, Soviet troops were still
an occupying force, but, for the time being, did not function as such.
The general population, though, remained ignorant of this fact. They had learned the lessons of occupation well and once the events of 1945 and 1953 faded into history, the occupiers'
threatening image stopped bothering them. According to Richard Weisshuhn, member of the dissident movement in East Berlin, even the building of the Berlin Wall in 1961 and the sealing off of the border did not
totally alter daily life. People learned to adapt to the new situation.
"We were not interested in the Soviet troops and we did not take them seriously," Weisshuhn says of the opposition movement of the 1980s. "If we had done that we would
have been totally paralyzed. Our problem was the Stasi secret service, and that was quite enough to cope with."
The "house of cards" of Soviet imperialism rapidly collapsed, once Gorbachev started rattling at it. But when the Cold War Era came to an end, the legacy of problems was just
beginning.
Regine Wosnitza writes from Berlin.
