Life in the Australian Army

[Chippar]

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 farm - 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 yagotta do before brekky is
make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No bloody
cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack - 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 possum 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 back 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
a bloody possum's bum 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 ****!!
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,
Sheila.