Speaking of puke bags - since this is Military Memories…
Many years ago most of my ODA lived in Texas even though our unit was in Colorado. We were simply the “Texas Team” and had a team house at Dallas Naval Air Station.
We were going to do some shooting at Guernsey, Wyoming - a great place for guys like us to shoot. No range Nazis, no flagpole.
After meeting the air crew at JRB Fort Worth, which included hot AF (and that does not stand for Air Force) pilot Candy, we boarded the plane and flew to Houston to pick up a SEAL detachment.
The flight to Wyoming was fairly uneventful, most of us slept until it was time for in-flight rigging. So after chuting up, things began to get interesting. We began flying nap of the earth over some hairy terrain. Of course we made several crude remarks about Candy getting some stick time in the cockpit. At one point I looked out one of the portholes and saw a cliff face that looked mere meters away from the wingtip. I’m sure it was probably much more than a few meters. That didn’t bother so much as the constant up and down twisty turny maneuvers, all while having been breathing in jet fuel fumes for the past several hours. Plus it was hot AF in that aircraft, all chuted up. I couldn’t wait to jump out.
Turns out some of the buffeting wasn’t Candy’s doing - high winds on the DZ. The jump was canked, and we couldn’t land at Guernsey. I can’t remember how much farther we had to fly, but I was pissed. I was starting to feel ill, and I had never yakked in a plane before.
The fumes were really starting to get to me, and it was getting even hotter in the aircraft.
I waited as long as I could but just could not hold it in any longer. I grabbed an air sickness bag and could not get the damned thing open. When I finally did, I discovered that’s not the bag you heave into, it’s the plastic bag inside the bag, which of course I had trouble with as well. I could feel my gorge coming up, still no luck with the bag, and then out it spewed. Got the bag opened a millisecond early. I’d sure I must have gotten some on my hands, maybe my equipment. Not sure. Didn’t care.
But my actions in the aircraft, to borrow a jumpmaster term, caused an almost immediate chain reaction - every Green Beret and SEAL on that C-130 yakked big time. Some in the bag, some not. I remember because I slipped in some unassing the bird.
Definitely spoiled any of our fantasies about hooking up with Candy later in Guernsey…