Arbeit macht frei: - Fredrick Töben

‘Yes, I don’t take any drugs and I don’t need to be placed on a substitution
program’.
‘Yes, I do have a problem – my legs. I need to wear compression stockings’.
After the physical examination, I, with another fellow, aged about 22, were
handcuffed and taken to a van; it then drove about 100 m across the road,
so to speak, and deposited us outside an entrance where officers awaited
our arrival. The reception officer led us into the building and down a long
hallway, joking about his Italian background, even jesting that German
tanks were more efficient because Italian tanks had one forward and four
reverse gears. Then he spoke advisedly about my going into Protective
Custody: ‘You are a high profile prisoner and it is a problem’, he added.
As my personal belongings were being catalogued and priced, I noticed a
severe tone prevailed. I was asked how much was my tie, my shirt, my suit,
my belt, my compression stockings, socks and shoes? I was even relieved of
my glasses: ‘You won’t be reading anything for a while’, one officer
grumped at me as he placed them with my other possessions.
I requested to keep my compression stockings with me into the cell. An
officer, in no uncertain tone, snapped, ‘You have no request to make at this
stage! Take off your overalls and put this on’. I was thrown a beige linen
smock, much like the one made famous by the Guantanamo Bay prisoners,
and then half-a-dozen sturdy officers herded me into Cell 6.
Once inside the cell, these men formed a scrum around me, and then a
hundred times worse than on the football field I was verbally blasted. I had
not heard such a torrent of foul language for a long time, if ever. A couple
of the officers were so revved up that they sprayed me with their spit. At the
same time they physically unobtrusively prodded, so much so that I could
not decide which man was doing it; I just stood still and calmly looked the
fellows in the eyes, scanning each one and wondering if they were under
orders to give me this work-over. Then as suddenly as it began it stopped.
One of the officers began to speak, ‘Now, I’ll be saying this only once. This
is how you fold the blankets … Stand correctly when officers enter the cell’.
After another torrent of strong language the men exited, slamming shut the
cell door after them. It took me a little while to recover from this situation,
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