True blue from the bush.

good  day.

I received this e-mail from a friend in Australia
to-day and felt it was worth a share.
It was sent to me because my friend knows where my heart is.

The outback!

Life in the Australian Army

A friend in Aussie, Who comes from Eromanga a small town, West of Quilpie  in the far south west of Queensland,   It comes from a young soldier to Mum and Dad.

Dear Mum and Dad

I am well, Hope youse are too, tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the army is better than working on the farm, tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are gone! I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta get out of bed until 06.00am.
But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make your bed and shine your uniform.
No bloody cows to milk or calves to feed, no feed to stack nothing!
Ya haz got to shower though! but its not so bad coz there's lotsa hot water,  even a light to see what your doing.

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no Kangaroo steak or possum stew like wot Mum makes.
You don't get fed again until noon and by the time  all the cities boys are buggered because we've been on a route march!
Geeze it's only just like walking to the windmill in the back paddock!

This one will kill me brothers, Doug and Phil.
I keep getting medals for shooting, dunno why?
The bulleye is a big as a Possums bum and it don't move an it's not firing back at you, like that day the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the big show last year.
All you have to do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target " it's a piece of piss"!

You don't even have to load your own cartridges, they come in little boxes, and ya don't have to steady yourself against the roll 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 real easy, it's a bit like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack  and Steve and Muzza and Boori , all at once, at home after muster.

Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either and it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got, I've only been beaten by one bloke from the Engineers and he was 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handels across the shoulders and as you know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringing wet! but I fought him til the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.
I can't complain about the army tell the boys to get in quick before the word gets around how bloody easy and good it is.


Your loving daughter.

Sheila.

Agman