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

Author's opening notes: Sorry for the delay. I've also been working on my MASH story "Maggie-Beth" in addition to The Greenshirt's Guide.

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

By J.T. Magnus, Turbo

Part Nine: Combat Readiness

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General Lawrence James Flagg the third was career military, came from a family of career soldiers, and he still was glad to leave Washington D.C. and the Pentagon behind and return to his base. Walking across the courtyard of the 'Chaplain's Assistant's Supply Depot' in the grey pants and black jacket of his G.I. Joe Class-A's, he returned the numerous salutes of the Greenshirts. No matter how much he just wanted to march to his quarters and drop his bag on the floor and himself on his bed.

Two hours in a Skystriker, and five in a meeting at the Pentagon before that, with another two hour Skystriker trip before the meeting, all of it had left him stiff, so once he entered the access hut that hid the personnel entrances to the Pit III, he chose to take the stairs down to the Joe team's barracks to stretch his legs and work out some of the day's tension. That was why he was in a foul mood when he heard the music and yelling coming from the Mess Hall and stormed in.

"What's all the damn racket in-oh."

The man known to friend and foe alike as The Tomahawk paused at the sight of the men and women under his command relaxing and having a party. After all he had been through, it was all he could do to keep command decorum and not join in.

He wasn't, however, able to keep from making a comment, a bad habit he had picked up from his second in command, "Have the cops showed up yet?"

Barricade, who was standing near the door gave him a look that one usually didn't give one's commanding officer, "This is a military base, Sir."

"Oh... Have the MPs showed up yet?"

Barricade scoffed at Tomahawk's attempted recovery, "'Yet'? They've been here the entire time. Last I checked, they and Tiger Force were having a drinking contest."

Whenever anything like that started there was a list of Joe who were usually to blame, and Tomahawk started at the top, "Shipwreck?"

"No, actually," Barricade answered, "This time it was Sureshot."

"Why aren't you taking part?"

"Don't drink, sir."

Tomahawk nodded, set his bag down by the wall, laying his cover and jacket on top, then started walking around the edge of the party. Almost by osmosis he could feel himself loosening up already by the time he reached where his second in command was on a cell phone. Even over the din of the goings-on, he could hear both sides of the conversation...

"Let me get this straight, you want twenty large supreme pizzas, two large pepperoni pizzas, two large pineapple pizzas, and one large onion pizza?"

"For pick-up, correct."

"That will be three hundred and thirty-four dollars and thirty-eight cents... Listen, if this is a prank, it's not funny."

"Ask the manager if it is."

Turbo hung up and turned to Torpedo, who was standing nearby shaking his head.

"You can always tell when they hire a new person."

"Surprised and questioning again, bra?" The Hawaiian-born SEAL asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yep."

Neither of them had noticed Tomahawk's presence yet, and they were in the 'safety' of their headquarters, so both were scared out of their wits when Tomahawk dropped his hands on their shoulders.

"So, who's going out after the pizza?"

Turbo turned around, "Jes-uh..."

Torpedo recovered faster and saluted, "Welcome back, sir, ya?"

"Thank you, Chief," then he dismissed the formality, "So, who's going, Torpedo?"

"Jus' getting to that, sir... SPARKY!"

Sparks looked up from the computer he had with him, "Yeah?"

"Who's in the least amount of trouble in town?"

"Let's see... Turbo - speeding, big surprise there. Black-Out and Barrel Roll - the same. Gung-Ho - failure to yield a left turn and destruction of a police vehicle..."

"You mean 'police property'," Tomahawk clarified.

"No, sir, I mean a police vehicle - barehanded."

The general turned to look at the major, "Why am I the last to hear about these things? More than that, how do you keep these guys out of serious trouble?"

Turbo groaned, "Let's just say a little bit of money and a whole lot of community service."

"Wen he means is that he had to take Sheriff Wilpro's kaikamahine to her junior prom - and she not the prettiest young wahine in Diamond Dust."

There was a blink, then a pause from Turbo before, "You know what scares me, Jim," he said, referring to the Tomahawk by name, "I actually made sense out of that."

"And in the Greenshirts, Privates Jameson, Michaels, Thomas, Crane, and Hawke are not on the Christmas card list of our local law enforcement at the moment... Something about a wild party in town?" Sparks raised an eyebrow, "Other than that, we're in the clear. Who do you want to send?"

"I'll go," Tomahawk interjected, "It'll do me some good to get away from the military for even an hour."

"That bad in Washington, huh?" Turbo asked, leaning back against the wall.

It sometimes struck the general as odd that most of the Joes he confided in were half his age or younger, but it didn't really matter.

"Most of it was bull... how much fuel and ammo we use," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Our 'promoting of members of the armed forces without a proper board of review', I believe is how one of them put it."

"As if we didn't know they'd deny any promotion from Greenshirt Private to full G.I. Joe we put before them," Turbo snarled out.

"And our 'cavalier attitude towards valuable equipment' - That is, that we're willing to let tanks and jeeps that can be replaced be sacrificed instead of trained men and women who can't."

Torpedo spouted off a stream of mixed curses about the Jugglers that caused the others to take a step back.

"I don't understand half of what you said, Torps," Turbo commented, "But the half I do I agree with wholeheartedly."

"Well," Tomahawk said, indicating he wanted to drop it for now by changing the subject, "I better go 'volunteer' one of the Greenshirts to help me out on getting the pizza back here intact. Think I could trust you to see that my gear gets to my quarters intact, Tom?"

Turbo nodded, "As the Sea Bees say, sir, 'Can do.'"

Tomahawk smiled, to hell with what those underhanded, manipulating powermongers in Washington thought; his men were the best - period.

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Murphy's Law of Warfare: No combat ready unit has ever passed inspection.

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Author's Closing Notes: If anyone's wondering how Shipwreck could be involved in a drinking contest between the MP/Urban Assualt unit of Joes and Tiger Force, in Brazil, Marajo (Probably misspelt it, "Sailor", I think is the translation...) was a member of Tiger Force using the v1 Shipwreck mold.

Also, there's an extra letter, but can anyone guess who Sheriff Wilpro is named after?

Review Responses:

Tirya King: Yep, it was Jazz... Two bonus points (what they can be used for is anyone's guess.). Though I think you got the characters mixed up; Turbo was the one with the music, Honda was the one making the observations.

MariaShadow: Yeah... If I ever get busy and get any of the regular stories written, you could see just how important the team is to Turbo.