Arbeit macht frei: - Fredrick Töben

Peter and I lined up with other visitors to get our persons verified, our
hardware safely locked away (keys, 'phone, camera), our bodies
underwent the “magic wand” treatment for hidden contraband and our
food was inspected. We appeared to have struck a hitch: were we not
registered as visitors? Oh, horror, had I come all for nothing! But
eventually our names were found and Peter and I met up with our famous
friend.
Fredrick was called to the grassy area, shadowed by tall trees, where the
visitors are spending pleasant times, and perhaps sometimes not so
pleasant ones, with their jailed loved ones.
It looked just like any family reunion. The weather was ideal, the
conversation and surroundings congenial. Fredrick was very chirpy. He
looked thinner than I had known him to be, especially in the face, but he
was in excellent spirit, regardless of the circumstances in the family and
other losses. His attitude was that of cheerful acceptance of his “home”
and he had apparently good rapport with the staff, to whom he referred as
“officers of the crown”, most definitely not “screws”. This gladdened me,
because I have a cousin in Germany who had become a prison warden. A
tough assignment, since you are regarded from the outset as the prisoner's
enemy.
But in an area of few employment opportunities, a man – a woman- has to
take what is available. And on the other side of the fence, I thought of my
grandfather, Adolf Tober, who had been the inmate of a concentration
camp, Oranienburg, for a few months. A well-kept family secret – no, he
was not a Jew!
To be honest, the prisoners looked a great deal happier than the staff, who
had an aspect of deep discontent, resignation, even suffering, about them.
Fredrick told us about the work he had volunteered for. He was rubbing
back and painting posts, cleaning up the roads and other valuable help. This
was not enforced but was freely offered by him, much to the surprise of both
fellow prisoners and staff alike. His German farming background would not
allow him to sit sulking in his cell, a victim of his Jewish foes, but rather he
saw an opportunity for exercise and usefulness in the fresh air.
I gained a good impression of the jail atmosphere. There was one thing
that surprised me: while the scrutiny on going into the jail was strict, I was
able to go past the guards going out to the toilet or making coffee at the
sink, without too close supervision.
Peter and I came back again the next day, Sunday 25 th
Oct, to make it
worthwhile for me, seeing I had come quite a distance, from the NSW
Mid North Coast to see FT.
Again, the three of us had lunch together and we spoke to each other
from 1pm until 4pm. The “famed prisoner” took us around the grounds
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