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 you 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'!!
Blokes haz gotta shave 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 its not firing back at ya like the
Johnsons did when our big scrubber bullgot into their prize cows before
the Ekka [State Fair] last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself
comfortable and hit the target - its a piece of cake!! 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 [roundup]. 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, Jill
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Helen, normally in Somerset, UK but back in Poole, Dorset for the summer
"Forget the formulae, let's make lace"
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