As careful preservation of time-honored rites of passage would prescribe, the group would fit time into their busy work/drink/sleep schedule to indoctrinate the newbies by taking a short jaunt over to Johns for their "Welcome" shot of Ratzeputz. MMM-MMM-MMM I can still feel the warm, tingly feeling of belonging.
After the first visit to Johns, one was most certainly sure to be lured back. A bowl of Goulacsh Souppe and a cold Henniger while Kitty pulled obnoxious-but-loving stunts on you like "Do you know ze best kind of cigarettes? OP - Other Peoples." as she casually took one of your cigarettes and lit it up for herself. Another favorite "Kittyism" was when she wanted to show you a trick..."Hold your hand up like ziss viss your fingers spread apart like ziss....." She'd take all of your cigarettes and line them between your fingers until your entire pack (or the remainder thereof) was being held between your all of your fingers (as though you were about to light them all at the same time), then she would crumple your pack and discard it. If you ever went back to the barracks with a shirt pocket full of loose cigarettes, you knew Kitty accepted you (I think - either that or she didn't care for you - I think they were one in the same). I decided Kitty was the "nice twin" of Eva Braun.
Never had a better bowl of Goulasch Souppe than @ Johns. We belonged, and that made everything there better.
