I went to basic in November of 2004 as soon as I decided college sucked.We had a guy, PVT D, who was from a town near Sill. D used to go to church every Sunday, on the other side of the tracks, and see his parents. His dad was an AF retiree so getting on post was not a problem.PVT M had teeth and gums like he'd been dipping a log of snuff a day since he was 8. He was destroyed by the lack of tobacco. M and D made a deal I wasn't privy to. And D started bringing him a can or two every Sunday after having his parents pick it up for him.Fast forward to a standard ol' 6 mile ruck. We made it to the halfway point and stopped to eat our MREs, placing all the candy and such in a pile. Pretty standard. At this point our DS, DS GB, a ginormous black man who I still have the utmost respect and fear for, noticed that M appeared to have tobacco in his lip. Why the idiot didn't spread it around I'll never know but everybody could see the giant lump in the lower right of his lip.
DS GB calmly walked over to the pile of candy and grabbed a bag of skittles. He didn't yell or act a fool. Just calmly made M put a giant handful of skittles and the rest if his can in his mouth, then explained that he was going to ruck next to him for the 3 miles back to the bay. If M spit one time he would get an Article 15. If he didn't, the punishment would be done.I gotta give M props though. We were only a few hundred yards from the bay when he began vomiting. DS GB called it good and M never asked D to bring him tobacco again.After 12 years of dipping, quitting is hell, but DS GB convinced M to quit in just a few hours. DS GB retired right after our cycle and I think he was a bit burnt out, but he was a damn good DS and it was probably the most humorous thing I've ever witnessed.