...and my pants don't fit any more. I graduated from WTC on Friday. The lead DS smoked my platoon one last time right before we marched off to graduation. He said "I'm gonna get some pain out of you turds now because I gotta put up with ROTC pussies for the next few weeks, and we can't smoke them like we smoke you." Pics and videos will get posted sometime later this week. No broken bones, but I did develop a stress fracture a few days before the final ruck march that almost got me set back. The oldest guy that graduated in my platoon was 53, and the youngest was 21. We had one guy that consistantly scored in the 280-300 range on his AFPT. He was crossing over from Air Force to Army. Our Platoon Sgt was a former Ranger, which helped us out a LOT. The best parts of WTC: Night Land Nav; Night Infiltration Course; Pugil Sticks; and getting to know the M16. The worst parts of WTC: the pit; the fucking fucked up Kentucky weather; sweating our asses off in the IBA and then freezing our asses off in sweat-soaked ACU's. The food was much better than I ever got in the Air Force. Except for breakfast (eggs, bacon/sausage, bisquits, gravy... for 5 long weeks... every single fucking day). I ate like a pig every day, and still lost 20+ pounds. More to come later. Sleeping my ass off at every opportunity now.