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Life in the Australia Army


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Life in the Australian Army...

Text of a letter from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. (ForThose of you

not in the know, Eromanga is a smalltown, 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 getin bloody quick

smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slowin settling down at first,

because ya don't hafta get outta beduntil 6am.

But I like sleeping in now, cuz all yagotta do before

brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and cleanya uniform.

No bloody cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed tostack - 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 gottado is makeyourself comfortable and hit the target –

it's apiece of piss!! You don't even load your own cartridges,

they comes in little boxes, andya don't have to steady yourself against

the roll bar 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 only5 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 toget in quick

before word gets around how bloody good it is.

Your loving daughter,


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