Dear Mum & Dad

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 ya 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'!! 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 gotta do is  make yourself comfortable and hit the target - it's 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 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 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,

Sheila