Sometimes yagotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy - but it's OK coz it's only one at a time like, 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 18 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders. As ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin' wet, but I fought him till the other blokes pulled me off and carried me to the boozer. He didn't come with us though, said somethin about sore mouth...
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😊