The first time I opened an MRE, I was 9 years old. My neighbor, a former Marine, had bought a box of them from the surplus store for a hunting trip and had one left over. He handed it to me and said, “I think you’ll get a kick out of this.”
I tore open the plastic bag and from the moment I looked inside, I was hooked. Bread, crackers, cheese, beef stew, all inside individual pouches with calories and vitamin content spelled out on the back of each; matches; toilet paper; gum; the smallest bottle of hot sauce I’d ever seen—everything had a purpose, and everything was in its place. I thought...