I would rather chew off my arm than vomit. So as I look back on my military career, I find it curious that of all the services out there, I chose the one that offered the most opportunities to get sick.
I almost joined the Coast Guard, because they had a reputation of being a shallow water Navy. That sounded like something I could handle.
Then I found out that they head OUT when the weather gets rough. They even head TOWARD hurricanes, for crying out loud.
I wouldn’t have stood a chance, let alone a full watch.
Naval aviators don’t have it any better. If I were a pilot I would fly C-130 cargo planes. They stay nice and level, and don’t pull Gs. Jet pilots are crazy, and they are mean. I say this because a certain pilot in Texas did his best to make me sick several years ago, on a “fam flight.” He only relented after I threatened to throw up on him and fill the cockpit with yesterday’s lunch. I swore off the flight option from that point on until forever.
Getting sick almost killed me back in 1978 (“Adventures in the South Atlantic“). (In subsequent seasickness episodes, there were times I wished it had.)
I could have been an Army guy. Army guys don’t get seasick because they don’t go to sea. Marines have to ride ships every once in a while, but they are smart. They get off as soon as they can.
Navy guys don’t have that luxury. Yet, knowing what awaited me, I joined up because I loved the Navy.
I figured if it got bad enough, I could always chew off my arm.