On our F-4 drill at Mountbatten in 1973, we were all thrown in off a launch in two lines of six. Knowing it would be a while till were were picked up, and as it was December, I'd packed a waterproof bag with some cigarettes and matches, and secured them in the P-tube and then re-zipped it water-tight.
Got into the dinghy, inflated the floor, inflated the top-cover and threw out the sea-anchor. Nice and snug, I was last in line, facing, and drifting towards France. Right, time for a smoke!
After about two minutes the next thing I knew was that I was hurtling skywards, upside down and falling out of my dinghy. SSSSSSSSSSSSPlash as I hit the sea and the sight of the SAR launch disappearing at a rate of knots, having come past me at 40+!! It seemed that the Master Aircrew skipper had spotted my smoke and proceeded at full chat to capsize me with the bow wave!! Of course as he was upwind I hadn't heard him.
Naturally I was the last to be picked up, to be met by a very grumpy M Pilot who told me to get below and have some rum. He was not impressed by the wet-behind-everything Pilot Officer asking for some coke to go with the rum.
