You're In The Army Now!

I got this in an e-mail and thought you'd like it:

Life in the Australian Army.....

A letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad.

(Eromanga is a small town west of Quilpie in the far south west of Queensland)

Dear Mum and Dad,

I am well. I hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the army is better than workin' on the farm - tell 'em to get in bloody quick smart before all the good jobs are gone!

I was a bit slow at settlin' in at first, cos you don't have to get up till 6am, but I am enjoying the lie-ins now. All you have to do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots. No bloody cows to milk, no calves to feed, no hay to stack - nothin'!! You have got to shower though - but it's not so bad, 'cos they've got hot water and even a light to see what you're doin'!!

At brekky, you get cereal, fruit and eggs, but there's no kangaroo steaks or possum stew like Mum makes.. You don't get fed again till noon, and by that time all the city boys are buggered 'cos we've been on a route march - geez, it's just like walking to the windmill in the back paddock!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil - I keep gettin' medals for shootin' !! I dunno why, cos the bullseye's as big as a bloody possum's bum, and it don't move around and it don't fire back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows last year. All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target - you don't even load your own cartridges 'cos they come in little boxes, and you don't have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shootin' truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys, and I have to be real careful 'cos they break easy. Only one at a time as well - not like wrestling with Doug and Phil and Jack and Steve all at once like we do at home. Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either - it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got. I've only been beat by this one bloke from the Engineers - and he's 6 foot five and 18 stone - and as ya know, I'm only 5 foot seven and eight stone wringing wet - but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets round about how bloody good it is............

Your loving daughter,

Sheila