This is my first American Idiot fic. I've noticed that there is an astounding lack of Tunny/Extraordinary Girl in this archive, and I wanted to take strides to fix that. They're my favorite couple in the story. I hope you enjoy! This (Just so you know) takes place a month after Tunny is deployed to Iraq.

I'm dedicating this to Stark Sands. I had a family member go to Iraq to fight. They didn't die, but I lost him to the war there all the same. Seeing Stark in American Idiot made me come to terms with what I lost. Stark will forever be both Tunny and a hero to me.


Tunny Clarke knew he had been lied to about the military the second his tan boots hit the sands of Baghdad, Iraq. Slipping on his sunglasses, he looked around the smooth, desert terrain. It looked nothing like the advertisments promised or the recruiters swore it looked. Even in March, the heat bore down through his fatigues, and sweat instantly brimmed his face.

He dreamed, they told him, that the military brought about medals, women and glory. But the only medals the military brought him were his metal dog tags that strung their way around his neck. The only women he saw were the veiled Iraqi women, who steered clear of any American contact. And Glory? Glory was as far away as Jingletown and the life he left behind there.

In spite of those lies and false hope, though, he settled into life in Iraq quickly. Tunny, like all soldiers, had to. He spent most of his time in the field, guiding convoys across the expansive deserts. They narrowly escaped land mines, dodged packs of terrorists, and thwarted any attempts to hijack the American property. And soon, he found himself almost enjoying his life there. The work fulfilled him in a way that he knew Johnny and Will never could understand. He felt that, in a way, he was creating a generation of little Johnnys, Tunnys, and Wills in Iraq. By fighting over there, he gave them the right to complain about their parents, the Establishment, and the Blah-fucking-blah, as Johnny would say. And to Tunny, that was enough. Or, so he thought.


"Getting transfers tomorrow," his Commanding officer commented to him one afternoon.

Mail time at the base quickly became Tunny's least favorite time of the day. No letters came for him, not that he expected them anyway. His father, as usual, disapproved of his decision. Johnny vowed to never speak to him again once he joined up. So, Tunny took to conversing with his CO during afternoon mail time to lighten his mood. Tunny liked the old Southern man, he realized, and enjoyed his superior's company.

"Really?" he asked, looking up at the unsmiling man from his cot.

C.O. White nodded and handed a thick stack of letters to the boy in the bed across from Tunny. The young Clarke boy fought down a bout of jealousy at the sight of the letters, turning his eyes away to keep from lunging at the man who greedily sped through the words from home.

"Really," White began gruffly before looking up at Tunny, "And guess what they got with 'em?"

Tunny shrugged and lay back on his cot, the jealousy passing with each of his leader's words. He interlocked his hands and placed them behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He already knew that constructers placed exactly 278 ceiling tiles in the room, but he began counting once more anyway.

"I don't know, White. Beer?" He deadpanned.

What else could get an old Southern buzzard like you so worked up?

The man shook his head and looked down at the young man.

"Even better."

General dissent broke out amongst the men in the barrack. To soldiers in the desert, a home comfort, such as beer, was as perfect as anything could get.

"C'mon, White. There ain't nothing better than beer," Staff Sergeant Rivers, America's favorite son, said, standing from his bunk.

He grabbed his letters from the his Commanding Officer with a laugh and blindingly white smile. How he managed to keep them so brilliantly shiny even in the harsh desert conditions, Tunny never could fathom.

"This is better than beer, Patriot," White insisted, using Rivers' call-sign.

A young, skinny man named James Dileo stood from his bed and followed Rivers' lead. He picked up a letter from the older man, instantly proceeding to tear it open. The sound of the ripping envelope made Tunny sick to his stomach with loneliness.

"Well, if it's better than beer, it could only be one thing."

A knowing look crossed over White's face as comprehension dawned on Dileo. He nodded, a smile finally creeping onto his face.

"That's right, men. Women. The transfers have got women in their platoon."

Uproar filled the barracks as the men whooped in victory. To the passerby, it may have seemed as though the men just won a huge battle on the front lines or found the cure to all cancers. But no, they cheered for women joining them on their base. Quickly, the men turned to the older, wiser man, and pumped him for information.

"How many are there?" A young man shouted, leaping from his bed across the barrack and lunging toward White.

"You said they get here tomorrow?" Rivers asked, slipping on his sunglasses and mentally planning to wear his good fatigues in the morning.

"Where are these girls coming from?"

"What do they do? Artillery?"

"Ah, man, nothing's hotter than a chick with a gun-"

Tunny allowed the conversation to become background music in his mind. He sat up from his bed, shock flooding him. Women on the base. Tomorrow. He hadn't seen a woman-one that wasn't covered from horn to hoof in veils, that is- since his basic training.

"Who knows, Tunny? There may even be one desperate enough to hit you up," Rivers joked, slapping Tunny on the shoulder.

The possibility filled Tunny's empty, loneliness with a small, whisper of hope. He drowned it out with doubt, but soon, he found that that whisper would soon become a deafening roar.


April 1,

Dear Will,

I guess I never told you. I'm in Iraq, fighting the war here. Johnny might have told you, but you never know with him. I had to get out of the city. I had to get away from the rage there. I couldn't take it, Will.

I miss you guys sometimes, though, when I'm out here on patrol by myself or waiting for a fire fight to start. It gets lonely. Give my love to Heather and the kid. Tell my dad to rot for not writing me since I've been here.

~Tunny


So? How do you like it so far? Good? PLEASE review!

I promise that my chapters will get much longer! This is just the first one!