"Right, the fools have put it in the wrong place. There is a barrow and here is a shovel. Move it over there" said Sgt "Butch" Freda Patterson.

"You don't eat or drink until it's done. It had better be done by two or you'll regret it"

Private Eloise Brown sighed inwardly as she saw the large pile of coke recently unloaded from the truck. It had taken it just a few seconds to cascade onto the concrete floor. It would take her much longer to transfer it shovel-load by shovel- load, long back-breaking wheelbarrow journey by wheelbarrow journey three hundred yards to the spot where it should have been unloaded. Or should it have been?

Eloise had a pretty shrewd idea that the suppliers had been deliberately told to put it in the wrong place, just as a way of giving the long suffering girl yet more back- breaking work out in the open on a cold November day.

Colder than this time last year, Eloise remembered with a shudder as she contemplated the three long years before her ordeal would be over. Last year had been worse, though, she thought. At least she was pretty well inured by this time to hard labour in this remote punishment camp, with its harsh, open air routine.

Better get started she thought and began to shovel the solid fuel into the barrow. It was a heavy shovel and soon her arms and shoulders began to ache, even though they had been forced through a multitude of such tasks already. The barrow was soon full and she began to wheel it over to the other site. After two dozen journeys her back, shoulder and arms were aching and her hands, although toughened after over a year's toil ,sore.

After three hours as the winter day began to lighten she could see that the new pile was still only about a third the size of the original and she was desperately tired and hungry. She had been up since four am and had had no breakfast - only the usual mug of disgusting tea. Six more hours at the least before I finish this! Surely I don't deserve this, she thought as she shovelled and trudged back and forth.

Three hours later at ten am it started to snow heavily and the path between the two piles became slippery. She began to struggle to keep up the momentum and to stay on her feet. There was still just over a third of the job still to be done and she was bound to slow down over the last last stages. She could scarcely see, feel or hear as she fought through the pain to keep going.

As the new pile grew, she had to throw the shovels full of coke upwards to ensure that the pile was as high as the first one and this only added to the gruelling nature of the task she had been given.

Despite the immense physical exertions, she could feel the cold beginning to affect her. Her feet cried out in agony and her hands ached with excruciating intensity of concentrated pain. She stamped on the ground to keep the circulation going. It was not surprising, of course, that her physical efforts were barely sufficient to keep the cold at bay.

For fifteen long, awful months now, Eloise had been completely naked, even down to her feet.

Sgt Patterson sat in her warm office looking out at the wretched girl toiling away under the supervision of Corporal Jenks, who was shouting at her in a perpetual litany of abuse, urging her on to greater efforts and making sure she had not a second's respite until the task was completed.

She saw her shovelling several loads of coke into the barrow, trundling the barrow over the distance to the fresh and slowly growing heap, unloading the coke and returning to the first pile for hour after glorious hour. (Not so glorious for Private Brown!). The sight of the naked body becoming increasingly flushed by exertion and cold became more and more exciting to her. She thought with glee of the discomfort and worse that the poor girl was enduring.

There were twenty other female prisoners here at this penal facility but only one who had been sentenced to serve her detention in a state of total nudity.

Patterson had never found out the reason for the exceptional severity of Eloise's punishment. Four years' detention was incredibly long- the girl nearest in terms of length of sentence was serving only six months- and the regime of eighteen hours a day of hard labor exposed year round to the elements was savage enough in itself, but to be naked and outdoors during the winter months was likely to kill the girl or so she had thought last year when Eloise had been delivered to their "care".

It almost had killed her she remembered. Only warm air outlets from the camp buildings where she had been allowed to spend a few minutes every two hours to warm herself up a bit had saved her. Also she was proving to be quite exceptionally hard, as though she was determined to live, even though many might have given up in despair by this time.

I wonder what her story is, she thought. Why is she the only prisoner whose record I cannot see and why are the staff forbidden to talk to her other than to give her work and to discipline her?

She resumed her contemplation of the wintry scene. A gang of women were cutting up logs. They had only been working since seven am and had had a breakfast - unlike Eloise whose first meal of the day might not be for hours yet.

Sadistic bitch that she was, Patterson felt a slight pang of pity for the unfortunate girl. Not that she would let it get in the way of doing her job.

What must she have done to deserve this? Damn. I wish I knew.