Well, I have a similar story.
It was my last night at my unit when I was stationed in Germany back in the 80’s. My friends threw a good-bye party for me and I quaffed quite a bit of good German beer.
Early the next morning, I awoke to the most horrid gas pains. So, I got rid of them the best way I knew.
Understand...this was not a quiet, reserved passing of gas...oh, no. It was the LOUDEST ripper ever produced. Did I mention that the room’s walls were concrete? Due to that fact of architecture, it actually reverberated for a second.
The other 4 guys in the room all stirred from their sleep at once. One of them groaned, “Hoagy, you pig! I’m gonna (expletive) kill you!” At that moment, the CQ banged on the door, calling out that it was time for PT. I think that, plus the fact that is was my last day there, saved me. Of course it didn’t help matters any that I spent the next 10 minutes giggling uncontrollably.
The other brothers and I laughed outrageously. Worst of all, I was intensively proud and immediately, shamelessly took credit for my gaseous prodigy.