I have no live rounds, empty cases or misfires in my possession Sgt.
Suprised no one has mentioned
GAS! GAS! GAS!
I don't remember many of the words, but my hands can wander round the cockpit arranging the switches in the familiar pleasing-and-eye-catching manner. It's like they aren't a part of me - well weird.
Odd that, I found myself at a museum sitting in the cockpit of a Wessex and I automatically did that without thinking about it.