By 
Not even Jalapeño Cheese Spread matches the exchange value of a can of dip in the eyes of a tobacco addict, or rather, most of the Marine Corps. I never partook, but damn near everyone I know took up smoking at some point after enlisting. This, in turn, led them to consume copious amounts of dip (chewing tobacco) and leave their foul saliva bottles in the wake of their cravings.
My personal vice was caffeine–and largely still is. However, you’ve probably never seen a Marine in the field giving handies in the bushes for a sip of some dark roast. I was always smart about my addiction, and I knew if I was going to be in the field for more than a few days I would bring a small stash of energy drinks to avoid a headache.
Generally not the case when it comes to dip users, as not a single one of these motherfuckers has enough foresight to bring their own dip to the field. As an impartial observer, I was always amused at the endless bumming of tobacco out in the wilderness, a scarce substance that only a few were prepared enough to bring. These Marines become suppliers, rationing their pinches and hiding their cans from the vulture-like squad around them.
It surprises me that there weren’t more enterprising Marines like Abe here to take advantage of such a situation.
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