Ken Ptasnick  CTO3  1967-1971


Like a million other sailors, it all began in boot camp at the Lakes Nov
1967. It was rate selection day. Break out the Blue Jackets manual and
pick away. Put 10 selections down and move on down the line. I picked
all the seabee and aviation rates which totaled nine. After what seemed
like hours, it was my turn at the table. A kindly southern First Class
Boatswain greeted me and took my list. He then proceeded to yell and
ream my butt for only having 9 selections. Where you from? New York sir.
It figures he barked. Don't you know the difference between 9 and 10?
Yes, but those were the only rates I wished to strike for. Get to the
back of the line and come back with 10. Frustrated, I reopened the
manual and search tirelessly. Came up with nothing. Closed my eyes and
slammed my finger down. Communications Technician. The book didn't say
much, just a series of alphabet letters somewhat connected. Anyway, back
on line again. Same kindly gent at the end. He remembered me for some
strange reason. Anyway, goes thru my list and said I qualified for
everything except there were no openings. Then he said, so you want to
be a CT. I shrugged my shoulders. He barked out, what branch? Once again
I looked mystified. What branch? He replies R I O T  A and M. I just
stood there. He was getting really mad. He shouted out, what's your
blood type. I responded "O"...the next thing I hear is...next. I get
back to the barracks really late. Everyone is smokin' and cokin'. I had
to explain to my CC why was so late which I did. I asked him about CT's
and really didn't know anything. All I knew was that I was going to
Class "A" in Pensacola. I get home on leave Jan 68, just before the
Koreans captured the Pueblo. Newspapers were full of the story the spy
mission and CT's aboard. At that point I said to myself, what did I get
into. The best four years of my life