Don't let the truth stand in the way of a good story, but it goes something like this.
Lads run ashore in India. The following day one of the SeaKings was dispatched from the carrier to go fetch the motley lot.
Picked them up at the airport after they had donned their goonsuits for the overwater journey back to mother.
Half way through the fairly prolonged stifling hot and humid journey, one of the land party commented that he needed another visit to the heads because of what he'd eaten the night before (naturally washed down with a few cold beers).
Complainant told to hold it in until they landed, he tried, he failed and so he dropped his goon suit to his midrif, angled his backside out the back door, told the driver to slow to a taxi speed and did the business!
Those were the days when we didn't really understand recirc and rotors inside the cab.....
Funny how so little can spread so far in such a short time.
You know who you are SI
