Disclaimer: I don't own G.I. Joe or Murphy's Laws...

Opening Author's Notes: First off, thanks to the other members of the Joeland list for helping me with the ideas for pranks on Beachhead and the others in this part.

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A Greenshirt's Guide To G.I. Joe Life

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Four: Drill Instructors

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Frontline had been together roughly one month and they already had something in common beyond their unit; there wasn't a one of them, Regular Military, Ex-Civilian, Officer or Enlisted, who wouldn't take on any enemy single-handed just to get their drill instructor to shut up with his yelling. Turbo's position as the unit's Commanding Officer and Ghostrider's rank of Colonel didn't mean anything during PT, and so they all had been forced to bare Beachhead for four weeks of hell.

So it was decided that until they were sent to wage war against Cobra, they would do so against the man assigned to train, or in some cases re-train them. They were now in their fifth week of existance as a unit and about to make their main attack against their target. Until now it had been irritants, skimishes, now they were aiming to do some damage.

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For once, Frontline didn't mind the 0430 reville that Beachhead insisted on... especially since it was marked today by the sounds of "Sweet Home, Alabama" coming loudly over the PA speakers. Moments later, the Look of Death that he was leveling at the assembled team because of the morning wake-up call wasn't really getting the result it normally did. The fact that his usual dark green balaclava had been replaced with a pink knit ski-mask might have had something to do with it. Even the assorted brutal verbalities the sergeant was spewing weren't enough to keep the snickers at bay.

Because he outranked Beachhead and had the shortest record of practical joking in the unit, Ghostrider was the safest one to comment when the 'lecture' ended and Beachhead tried to, and failed to pick up his rifle.

"Is something wrong, Sergeant... Slippery Weasel?"

No one knew where the 'slippery weasel' came from, but the axle grease that was preventing Beachhead from picking up his rifle had been taken by Fix-It from one of the team's Humvees the night before. The rest of the day continued in much the same fashion.

And Beachhead said nothing further the entire day, which made the other members of Frontline nervous...

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Two days later, as a team of pink-tinged Frontliners wearing bleached white uniforms - which was strange since beyond jungle pattern fatigue pants, which themselves were really just an unofficial uniform, there was no set uniform for the team - and carrying black broom and mop handles that they had been informed were their new assault rifles due to 'budget cuts' stood in formation before him, Beachhead calmly informed them of every mistake they had made in their pranks earlier that week.

Finally, he ended simply with, "...And your biggest mistake, maggots? You actually thought you could do better than ME."

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Murphy's Law of Warfare: For every action there is an equal and opposite criticism… in boot camp.

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Author's Closing Notes: Review replies...

MariaShadow: Oh, yeah... Maybe even two battalions and a spare company.

Tirya King: Thanks. I should warn you, though, a lot of my stories involve my own OCs.