Life in The Australian Army.

Life in the Australian Army - Brilliant!!

Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to
 Mum and Dad.
(For those of you not in the know,
 is a small town, west of Quilpie in the far
 south west of Queensland)

Dear Mum & Dad,
I am well.
Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is
better than workin' on the
 station - tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slow in settlin down at first, because ya don't hafta get
 outta bed until 6am. But I Iike
 sleeping in now, cuz all ya
 gotta do before brekky is
 make ya bed andshine ya
boots and clean ya uniform.
No bloody horses to get in, no calves to feed, no troughs to clean - nothin'!! Ya haz gotta showerthough,but its not so
 bad, coz there's lotsa hot
water and even a light to see what ya doin!

At brekky ya get cereal,
and eggs but there's no
kangaroo steaks or goanna
stew like wot Mum makesYou don't get fed again until noon
and by that time all the city
 boys are buggered because we've been on a'route march' - geez its only just like walking
 to the windmill in the bullock paddock!!
This one
will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for
shootin' - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as abloody dingo's arse and it don't move and it's not firing back at ya
like the Johnsons did when
 our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the
Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable
 and hit the target - it's a piece of p...!! You don't even load your own cartridges,they comes in little boxes, and ya don't have
 to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truckwhen you reload!
ya gotta wrestle
with the city boys and I gotta
be real carefulcoz they break easy - it's not like fighting
 with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.

Turns out I'm not a bad boxer eitherand it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got, and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers -
he's 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin' wet,but I fought him
till the other blokescarried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the

Army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how bloody good it is.
Your lovin daughter,



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