As promised, part 2.

This was a fun thing to write and makes the title slightly ironic. (You'll see what I mean soon.)

This chapter is dedicated to TheRebelPilot for giving me the first review of this story. (Thanks! It really made my day.)

Enjoy ...


Sargent Bosco "B.A." Baracus was in trouble. He had known it the second his fist made contact with that Major's jaw that his military career was over. How was he ever going to explain to his mom that he was kicked out of the Army for assaulting an officer? Of course, she shouldn't be surprised. The only reason she was okay with him joining the army in the first place was to make sure he stayed away from the gangs that plagued his neighborhood. After he put a couple of thugs in the hospital, he was lucky to get in the military at all; he could have wound up in prison! Now it didn't matter. Bars here weren't all that different from bars over there.

"This is really great," the man in the cell next to him ranted. "I work my butt of to get an officer's commission only to wind up here. You know this is all your fault."

"My fault!" B.A. snarled. "Hey, man, you in here because you stole Colonel Dixon's brandy."

"It was more like a loan, and I wouldn't have been caught if you hadn't knocked that Major onto my table. What were you doing in the officer's mess anyway?"

It was true, an enlisted man – like him – wasn't allowed in the officer's areas. Still, he had to try and clear his name. That accident report said that he had messed up the steering in one of the jeeps during his last tune up, causing it to go off the road. If anything was messed up, it was the Major! The man had been so drunk that night he couldn't steer a tricycle down a straight line, but it wasn't his name that was being dragged through the mud.

"He called me a liar!" B.A. snapped.

"And that's a good reason to ruin my life and career?"

"What career? The way I hear it, you just a clerk!"

"Administrative Assistant, and I wouldn't be throwing stones if I were you, mechanic."

"There ain't nothing wrong with being a mechanic."

"I see, and how about using double negatives?"

B.A. reached through the bars with a growl, grabbing the irritating pretty boy by the front of his shirt and pulling him as close as he could. If he was already going down for fighting, then another punch or two wouldn't make any difference. In fact, it might even make him feel better about being shipped home.

"Well, I'm glad to see the two of you are acquainted," a new voice chimed in.

B.A. turned his head to see a Lt. Colonel smiling at him with two files tucked under his arm. He didn't know the guy, but word around the motor pool was that he was one crazy dude, always coming up with some way or another to outsmart the enemy with everything from empty shells to rubber bands. There was one thing the Sergeant had to give him credit for: the man always came through in the end.

"Sir, please tell me you are here to bring me to a court martial … or maybe even a firing squad," the man in the other cell grunted, his face still pressed against the bars.

"No, Lieutenant Peck, I just came to make you and Sergeant Baracus here an offer."

"What kind of offer?" BA demanded, thinking about how much the man's smile reminded him of the loan sharks back in Chicago.

"The kind that will wipe your record clean."

"What's the catch?" Peck asked, as if reading BA's mind.

"I need two volunteers for a mission north of here …"

While he didn't sugar coat the fact that it was a borderline suicide mission, BA was in the second he found out that three M.A.S.H. units were in the path of the Vietcong forces. His buddy Tyler was in one of those hospitals, after taking a bullet for him while on patrol. The same information won over Peck. Maybe he wasn't such a weak pencil pusher after all …


So, how many of you imagined that Face and BA would have spent time in the brig? (Or is that just me?)

Let me know what you think and I'll post chapter 3 on my next lunch break.