About time we had a funny.
----- Original Message -----
From: Ben Mearns
To: Bernie O'Brien ; John Eastwood ; Ron Billing
Sent: Monday, July 16, 2012 7:15 PM
Subject: FW: Life in the Australian Army -
Life in the Australian Army..
Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. (For those
of you not in the know, Eromanga 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 settling down at first, because ya don't
hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya
gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya
boots and clean ya uniform. No bloody horses to get in, no calves to
feed, no troughs to clean - nothin'!! Ya haz gotta
shower though, but its not so bad, coz there's lotsa hot water and
even a light to see what ya doing!
At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no kangaroo
steaks or goanna stew like wot Mum makes. You 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 bulls
eye is as big as a bloody 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 truck
when you reload!
Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real
careful coz 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 either and 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 blokes carried 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 loving daughter,
Susan
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