Army jokes

A C-130 was lumbering along when a cocky F-16 flashed by. The jet jockey decided to show off and told the C-130 pilot: 'Watch this!' and promptly went into a barrel roll followed by a steep climb. He then finished with a sonic boom as he broke the sound barrier. The F-16 pilot asked the C-130 pilot what he thought of that? The C-130 pilot said, 'That was impressive, but watch this!' The C-130 droned along for about 5 minutes and then the C-130 pilot came back on and said: 'What did you think of that?' Puzzled, the F-16 pilot asked, 'What the heck did you do?' The C-130 pilot chuckled. 'I stood up, stretched my legs, walked to the back, took a leak, then got a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll." And the lesson? When you are young & foolish - speed & flash may seem a good thing. When you get older & smarter - comfort & boredom is not such a bad thing. Us older folks understand this one, it's called S.O.S - Slower, Older and Smarter!

A Harley biker is riding by the zoo in Taronga Park, Sydney when he sees a little girl leaning into the lion's cage. Suddenly, the lion grabs her by the cuff of her jacket and tries to pull her inside to slaughter her, under the eyes of her screaming parents. The biker jumps off his Harley, runs to the cage and hits the lion square on the nose with a powerful punch. Whimpering from the pain the lion jumps back letting go of the girl, and the biker brings herto her terrified parents, whothank him endlessly. A reporter has watched the whole event. The reporter addressing the Harley rider says, 'Sir, this was the most gallant and brave thing I've seen a man do in my whole life.' The Harley rider replies, 'Why, it was nothing, really, the lion was behind bars. I just saw this little kid in danger and acted as I felt right.' The reporter says, 'Well, I'll make sure this won't go unnoticed. I'm a journalist, and tomorrow's paper will have this story on the front page!' 'So, what do you do for a living and who do you support?' The biker replies, 'I'm a soldier just returned from Afghanistan and I'm not really interested in politics, maybe more right wing.' The journalist writes it up and leaves. The following morning the biker buys the paper to see news of his actions, and reads, on the front page: RIGHT WING DESERTER RUNS AWAY FROM THE ARMY, ASSAULTS AFRICAN IMMIGRANT AND STEALS HIS LUNCH! That pretty much sums up the media's approach to the news these days!

An Army Recruit from the Australian outback sends a letter home: 'Dear Mum & Dad, I am well. Hope you are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin’ on the farm - tell them to get in 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 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 dead 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 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 show last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target! 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 good it is. Your loving daughter, Sheila.'