| Hmmm, looks stunningly similar to this.
THE AUSTRALIAN ARMY
Letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad. [Eromanga is 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 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 awards 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 yer like the Johnsons did when our scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka Rural Show last year!
All yer gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target - 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 shootin ute when you reload!
Sometimes yer 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 pickhandles 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
You could adjust it to suit any nation
__________________
Platoon Commander, 6 Platoon, B Company
10/27th Battalion
Royal South Australia Regiment 
PRO PATRIA
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