The formalities of admission were correctly completed.  For the first night I was locked up in an admission cell.  The blankets in the camp had such a foul smell that in spite of the cold it was impossible to use them.

Next morning a piece of bread was thrown into my cell; I had to pick it up from the floor.  A quarter of the coffee consisted of grounds (Mary Bosanquet, The Life and Death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 247)

This would be just the start for Dietrich Bonhoeffer in prison