I served aboard many ships and they all had one thing in common: shitters operated by seawater. The shitters in the Navy are designed to operate using firemain seawater pressure to flush your troubles down the shit pipe, to the shit tank, to await pumping to the sea (or sewer, if the ship is in port).
My first ship had a row of ten shitters, each separated by a modest stall wall. One could pass shitpaper underneath in an emergency, which was often necessary when you didn't verify your critical tactical supplies before expending your ordinance. This particular row of shitters was also known for its propensity to douche unsuspecting assholes with seawater when any one shitter in the ten-shitter battery was fired. Not a big deal for veterans; when you heard a salvo go from a neighboring shitter, you merely raised your stern a bit until the waves subsided, at which point you sat back down to finish your own firing solution.
However, the new crewmember would not know to get his ass out of the red zone when the battery was released; and everyone currently engaged at the firing line in battle would know it because we would all hear the new guy holler when his ass got douched with salt water.
Innocent and harmless enough in normal peacetime environment, but when the ship pulled in to a port with questionable food sources and nasty local beer, wartime shitting commenced, and the inevitable damage to unsuspecting torpedo tubes would render our shit chutes especially tender due to a) mass cases of the shits combined with b) mass application of low bidder, government-supplied sandpaper to our flash holes.
Sure as the Battle of Midway turned the tide in the Pacific, somebody was gonna be hung-over enough to forget about proper shitter battery protocol and, in their hung-over stupor, forget to raise their inflamed shitholes out of the danger zone when one of the other shitters in the battery was flushed.
Salt water applied to an inflamed shit chute makes an interesting scream. And because we are all Shameless Shitters, we are merciless in our enjoyment of another's bombing range mishap.