Aus Army

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by mushroom, Jan 29, 2008.

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  1. Letter home from a new recruit to the Aussie Army


    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 ya gotta 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 piss!! 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
    __________________