Just As Relief Was Almost In Sight...
I have seen this story atributed to many different sources through the years and when I asked Col. Ilfrey about it he replied with a chuckle, "We'll I'm sure I'm not the only one it happened to....well, at least I hope not!" What I am presenting here is actually a combination of Col. Ilfrey's words and a few extras that the story has gained along the way,(it has almost become an urban pilot legend,) but on the whole this is based on a true incident...
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On long trips of four or five hours or more it often became nescessary to relieve one's self. All fighter planes were equipped with a relief tube but being strapped down tight and at 30,000 ft.,with all the heavy clothing on, oxygen mask and helmet, "G" suit, etc. it was quite a feat if one was able to sucessfully complete this maneuver without mishap. I will never forget one mission when I was deep in Germany and my bladder reached "maximum tolerance pressure" (the result of the previous night's over indulgence of English beer.) I prepared myself, swept the sky visually, moved the other members of the flight into a loose formation, and trimed the plane for straight and level flight.
I first loosened the restricting crash straps, then impatiently I fumbled around for the funnel shaped relief tube under the seat, found it and brought it up between my thighs. I began to probe through the two zippers and long underwear for the organ of my discontent, but the second my gloved hand touched it it retreated in terror from the cold. Precious moments were wasted while attempting to warm the offending hand and trying to entice the digit to come out of hiding, but eventually I managed to do so and I began filling the relief tube with a sigh.
About halfway through emptying my bladder I noticed that the exterior exhaust end of the tube was frozen and the tube was filling up quickly. There I sat, half finished, with a steaming container of urine in my hand and my bladder now demanding that I finish what had been started. I decided that I would just empty it on the floor of the cockpit by my feet and then I repeated the process al over again until I finally finished.
Just as I finished, sure enough, we were jumped by some Jerries. I grabbed the throttle and control stick and applied some negative pressure to the controls, causing the urine shot upwards from the floor where it scattered over my windshield and canopy, freezing instantly when it hit the -50 degree below zero plexiglass. This, of course blocked all of my forward vision.
I frantically tore my gloves from my hands with my teeth and began scratching at the yellow icy coating with my fingers, finally making a space where I could see out of the front a little. I regained my composure and scanned the sky again to find it empty. The flight home proved uneventful otherwise.
My crew chief waited dutifully as I taxied back to the revetment area. After I parked and opened the canopy, he climbed on to the wing to help me unbuckle all of the straps. He leaned into the cockpit, he sniffed the air like a bird dog and casually remarked, "Smells like you got awful scared up there cap'n"...
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