— Protestant country pastor, born 1925

There are days you never forget. For instance, March 9, 1960; that was a Wednesday. I remember it to this day. Because it's unusual to have funerals on a Sunday, but on Sunday March 6, in K., I buried an old farmer. Back then funeral services were still held in the home, with an open coffin. Only after everything was over was the coffin closed and carried out. Afterwards, there was the usual coffee drinking, and the atmosphere was very subdued. Normally, you see, gatherings after funerals were quite lighthearted affairs. But the undercurrent was: “Today we buried the last free farmer.” Because these “recruitment teams” would come from Rostock and on Wednesday they were ensconced here in our town. They consisted of three or four men who went from farm to farm and, first in a friendly fashion then later by force, made people sign. Some signed immediately. Those who held out were taken to the offices of the local authority. The council chairman at the time turned up as well and gave the recalcitrants a good talking to. They said to Farmer Linkshofen, who stood firm until the end: “If you don't sign — and you don't have to — then we'll fence in your land, we'll brick up your chimney, and then you can see how you get on.” That's the kind of tactics they used. In the end, they all signed.

There was a church service again the next Sunday. What an uproar! What had I said? That we had had a very emotional week, something like that, and I also talked about injustice.

“As far as I'm concerned, large-scale agriculture might make sense. But not the way it's happening here.”

But it only became really bad when, a little later, all the animals were driven out of their stalls. The horses, the cows, the animals the farmer depends on, you know. And how the animals were treated on the collective farms! The food they got! The horses disappeared right away, the good milk cows were ruined in a very short time. And the farmers had to watch all this happen.