G'day all,
As a lot of you blokes shoot as well as make sawdust, and there are a
few vets and ex military types in the group thought you'd get a laugh
from it.
regards
John
This letter from a new army recruit to Mum and Dad back home in
Eromanga, 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
working on
the farm. Tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all
gone. I woz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta
get outta bed until 6 am. But I like sleeping in now, coz 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.
Nothing!
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 shooting - 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 bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last
year. All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target and
its 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
Sometimes you 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
platoons got and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the
Engineers - hes 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 wringing 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,
Sharon
Wed, Dec 7, 2005, 9:15pm [email protected] (Greg=A0G.) did say:
I see someone down under ran across the memoirs of Sharon Buchanan.
Yeah, but it's still funny every time I read it.
JOAT
A rolling stone gathers no moss...unless it's a hobby he does on the
weekends.
On Thu, 08 Dec 2005 02:00:49 GMT, John B <[email protected]>
wrote:
Cute... I was thinking "oh, an Aussie version of the redneck joke" until I hit
the "daughter" part at the end....
Good on you, John..
>G'day all,
>As a lot of you blokes shoot as well as make sawdust, and there are a
>few vets and ex military types in the group thought you'd get a laugh
>from it.
>regards
>John
>
>
>This letter from a new army recruit to Mum and Dad back home in
> Eromanga, 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
>working on
>the farm. Tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all
>gone. I woz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta
>get outta bed until 6 am. But I like sleeping in now, coz 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.
>Nothing!
>
>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 shooting - 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 bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last
>year. All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target and
>its 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
>Sometimes you 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
>platoons got and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the
> Engineers - hes 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 wringing 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,
>
>Sharon
mac
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