Your Sister is Hot! An Army soldier staring at my baby sister a bit too long. Not a good way to start the day or be on an extended military deployment with other soldiers when they all agree my sister is hot and they want to date her!

Operation: Hands Off My Sister

It was another blistering morning at FOB Sandpit, where the sun seemed to hate us, and boredom was our constant companion. We were halfway through an endless deployment, and to be honest, the most excitement we’d had all week was when someone’s care package arrived with fresh socks. That is, until my baby sister, Emily, sent me a picture. Not just any picture—a picture of her at some beach, looking like a swimsuit model.

This wasn’t good.

I should’ve known better than to open the message while hanging out with the squad. The moment the photo popped up on my phone screen, it was like someone had hit the “slow motion” button on life. The entire team was there—eyes glued to my phone like they were staring at the Holy Grail.

“Who’s that?” asked Jenkins, the squad’s resident joker, his voice all casual but his eyes wide with interest.

I tried to downplay it. “That’s, uh… my sister. Emily.”

Big mistake. As soon as the word “sister” left my mouth, the dynamic shifted. You could practically hear the sound of a dozen mental gears grinding as every dude in earshot recalculated his approach. The fact that we were stuck on this dust bowl for months with no contact with the outside world probably didn’t help.

“That’s your sister?” Rodriguez, one of our gunners, asked as he leaned in closer to my phone, eyes bulging like a cartoon character.

“Yeah. So what?” I quickly pocketed my phone, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal. But it was too late. The damage had been done.

Jenkins leaned back, stroking his chin like some kind of philosopher. “You know, man… it’s really important to keep family ties strong during deployment. Like, really strong. You think she’s into guys in uniform?”

“Yeah, like me,” Rodriguez jumped in, flexing his bicep, which was more wishful thinking than impressive muscle. “I’m pretty sure I could sweep her off her feet. I’m great with family. I call my mom every Sunday.”

I glared at him. “Dude, you once broke up with someone because they ate your last pack of Skittles.”

Rodriguez waved that off. “That was different. Those were the Wild Berry flavor.”

Before I could say anything else, Murphy—who somehow managed to make it his mission in life to meddle in other people’s business—stood up, crossing his arms. “You know, Emily looks like she’d appreciate a guy who’s stable. I’ve been saving up my combat pay. I could take her out for a nice dinner once we get back stateside.”

Jenkins, not to be outdone, piped up, “Yeah, and then she’d realize she’s into guys with a sense of humor, like me. Women love to laugh. I bet I could make her laugh.”

I was about to tell Jenkins he couldn’t make a hyena laugh at a knock-knock joke, but then our squad leader, Staff Sergeant Anderson, walked in. Anderson was the guy you went to for advice about life, like a grizzled uncle who’d seen too much but was still weirdly zen about it. He looked at the group, then at me, sensing the tension.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Before I could explain, Jenkins chimed in. “We’re all just, you know, discussing who’s gonna date his sister.”

I thought Anderson would put an end to the madness, but instead, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. She’s got good bone structure. Strong jawline. Probably good genes for the future generation.”

I facepalmed. Even Anderson was in on it.

“Look, guys,” I started, trying to sound reasonable. “This is ridiculous. She’s my sister. You can’t just—”

Rodriguez interrupted. “Yeah, but we’re family too, right? And family shares. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“I was talking about MREs, man. Not my sister!”

At this point, I was getting desperate. But things went from bad to worse when one of the newer guys, PFC Mason, walked in. Mason was young, fresh out of basic, and completely oblivious to the situation. He saw the group gathered, and like any eager rookie, wanted to be part of whatever was happening.

“What are we talking about?” Mason asked.

Jenkins grinned and slapped Mason on the back. “We’re just figuring out who’s gonna date his sister when we get back home.”

Mason blinked, confused, then asked the last question I wanted to hear. “Is she single?”

I groaned audibly. “Guys, she’s off limits. Seriously.”

Anderson, ever the squad leader, held up a hand. “Alright, everyone, settle down. We’ll make this fair. Let’s do it military style. Rock, paper, scissors, best two out of three.”

I stood there, dumbfounded. Was my entire squad really about to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to hit on my sister? Was this my life now?

Rodriguez cracked his knuckles, looking serious. “I’ve been training for this moment.”

Murphy nodded, limbering up his fingers like he was about to enter a martial arts tournament.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Listen, you idiots! She’s off-limits! I don’t care if you’re a sniper with a 100% kill rate or you can do 200 pushups in under two minutes, none of you are dating my sister. End of story.”

The group fell silent for a moment, as if they were considering my words. Then Jenkins shrugged. “We’ll see what she thinks about it.”

I shot him a glare. “I swear to God, if any of you try to DM her, I will personally make sure you’re all on latrine duty for the rest of the deployment.”

Anderson clapped his hands together, standing up. “Alright, alright. Let’s give the man a break. But just so you know, if she does happen to come to any of our homecoming parties…”

“I’ll burn the invitation,” I snapped, still glaring at the group.

As the guys dispersed, I sat down and sighed. This was gonna be a long deployment, but one thing was certain: if I survived this, my sister would owe me big time.

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