I'm from a little town in Oklahoma that not only had a National Guard Armory, but also had one of the most evil, vile recruiting sergeants in military history. We'll call him Sgt. P, and he was slick. He was the type of guy that would hang out in a paternity ward just so he could get his quota for the month. This same slick son of a bitch was also the reason that my little brother (Jay) and I ended up in the same Guard unit, same platoon, even the same squad.

I had two years on my brother and have had my fair share of adventures with

A Co. first platoon. I was ending my commitment to the state when he was just starting out. Since the majority of our cadre was Air Assault ("dope on a rope" to the Airborne, but only to them), we got to spend many weekends zipping around Oklahoma on helicopters. I just happened to be the Chalk Leader on Jay's first ride on a bird.

[Side Note: I have a notoriously queasy stomach and everyone from my unit knew this. On my first flight, my Chalk Leader pulled me to the side and told me that if I felt the need to vomit, do not, under any circumstances, try to do it out the open door of the Huey (we were, after all, National Guard. It was a rare occasion when we had the pleasure of riding in Blackhawks.) If I felt like I was getting sick, I was to pull the front of my t-shirt over my mouth and vomit down my chest. That way, I was sure to not get any on the helicopter and wouldn't spend additional duty time cleaning a helicopter. I took this to heart and boarded for the first of many terrain flights (for those who don't know, a terrain flight is a flight that is a predetermined height from the ground, regardless of terrain. They can get really bumpy, to say the least.)

A few years go by and I find myself instructing a bunch of newbies on helicopter etiquette. Since I was the Chalk Leader, I arranged the lineup so I would be sitting with Jay for his first ride in a bird.

So, I've got all these kids sitting in their chalks and I'm giving them "The Talk". (Make sure you all have dog tags, muzzles down, etc, etc…) Not wanting to get sick in front of everyone on the bird, I proceed to give these guys the same advice given to me several years ago, because A. if one of them pukes, I'm going to puke, and B. Since my Platoon Sergeant is also the Air Assault schools' Head Instructor, it would look bad if someone from his platoon vomited on a helicopter.

They all had horrified looks on their faces and swore up and down that it would not come to that. I signal the bird to touchdown in the LZ (Landing Zone) and everyone loads with no complications. We go on one of the most vicious terrain flights I've ever been privy to (courtesy of our Platoon Sergeant) and not one of the newbies got sick (but they did have the biggest grins I've ever seen.)

Several years later, I've already completed my commitment to the state and my brother has put in a transfer to Tennessee. He landed a cushy job as a generator repairman for a tanker battalion (can you say REMF [Rear Echelon Mother Fucker], I knew you could), and was spending his last week with his old platoon. Needless to say, National Guard or not, a grunt is a grunt and they did it the grunt way. They got ridiculously drunk and were still feeling the beer the next morning.

Since this was his last ride, his Platoon Sergeant decided that Jay was going to really see what a high pucker factor a terrain flight can attain. They spent almost an hour flinging that poor bastard around the countryside in that helicopter, and the inevitable happened. But Jay, remembering the advice that his older brother gave him, did not puke in the helicopter. To the astonishment of the Crew Chief and his pilots, Jay pulled the top of his t-shirt up over his mouth and vomited down his chest. Of course, like any good soldier, he had his t-shirt tucked in so, the vomit was contained in a neat, albeit, slimy package.

They landed at the Armory and the Chief had already called down to the platoon about what happened. If they had been able to get near him, they would have carried him around on their shoulders. But, it was time for final formation and, he had to report for guide arm duty (the guy who carries the Company Standard).

So there he was, at the front of the company, holding the company flag while the Captain was giving his two cents over the weeks details. He was very distracted throughout his speech and finally, with all of First Platoon giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls, he asked Jay:

Capt. "What is that smell? Son, did you shit yourself?"
Jay. "No Sir, I had an incident on the way to formation."
Capt. "What sort of incident?"
Jay. "I started to get sick on the way here so I vomited in my t-shirt to keep it contained while on the helicopter."
Capt. "You did what?"

And that's when Jay handed the flag to the PL for Second Platoon, unbuttoned his BDU blouse, and ripped his t-shirt off from the neck down. Regurgitated Egg with Ham MRE spilled off his chest and splattered to the floor. No real chain reaction occurred, until the smell hit the first ranks of Second Platoon. Then everyone started vomiting. EVERYWHERE.

Strange thing is, he didn't get in any trouble. The entire company ended up staying late to help clean up. He's been away for years and they still talk about how hard-core he is.