Peace Work by Spike Milligan

They see us running down the hill; they are eating as fast as they can. But wc manage to intercept some cheese and pickle sandwiches.
    Lunch over, Lieutenant Priest herds us on to the Charabong – all bleating and mooing. The Charabong lurches off with a promise of further distributor trouble, but it doesn’t materialize and the engine settles down as Luigi crosses himself with relief. Now we are seeing Austrians: some die-hards are wearing lederhosen (leather shorts). Greta Weingarten points them out, saying, “Is gut, ja? ”
    “I bet they’re all bloody ex-Nazis,” says Bill Hall rolling a cigarette.
    “Zey are not all bloody Nazis,” assures Greta. “Many people not like ser Nazis.”
A FORCED LABOUR CAMP IN SIBERIA.
HITLER IS SHOVELLING SHIT AND SALT.
HITLER:
All lies! Everybody love zer Nazis.
    We are trying to work out who the most disliked person in the cast is. “It must be Chalky White,” said Hall.
    “That’s so,” said Mulgrew. “Why do people take an instant dislike to him?”
    “It saves time,” I said.
    We are passing through Villach and see lots of British troops on route marches. We give them all a cheer. “Bloody hell,” says Hall. “Still marching. Don’t they know the bloody war’s over?” I tell him wars are never over. “Wot you sayin’,” said Hall.
Worther see.
    “They only have intervals and this is one of them,” I said. “So take your partners for World War Three!”
    “I tell you why we have wars,” said Bornheim, looking up from his Union Jack newspaper. “Because men like it.”
    “Ah, look, Terr-ee,” says Toni and points to the beautiful Lake Worther with its bobbing boats and background of snowcapped mountains.
    Priest is standing at the front peering out the window. “Ah, this is it, folks,” he says as the Charabong pulls right off the road in front of a large guest house surrounded by chalets.
    We troop into reception where a fierce German lady by the name of Frau Hitz welcomes us with penetrating blue eyes and a big nose. “Velcom to zer Krumpendorf Guest House,” she says. “Your rooms are all ready for you.”
    “I wonder where the gas chamber is,” said Mulgrew, his shoulders heaving with silent mirth. “She’s a dead ringer for Bill Hall,” he said.
    We all check in. Hall, Mulgrew and myself have a chalet to ourselves. We dash to it to get the best bed. Fleet-of-foot Milligan gets in first and bags the bed near the window which overlooks a rose garden. It’s very simple furnishing, but very comfortable. No show tonight, so we relax. Toni has a room in the main guest house (BLAST, there go my knee tremblers again). From now on it’s goodbye Italian cuisine and hello German. No more pasta, but meat and veg, dumplings and stodgy puddings. For dinner that night we had Wiener Schnitzel mit zer Sauerkraut, and it was delicious.
A SIBERIAN SALT MINE.
HITLER IS SHOVELLING SHIT AND SALT.
HITLER:
You see, you Russian fools! Zey are already starting to like back us Germans! Soon zey will come begging to me for zer recipe!!
    Our Italian cast don’t like the food. Toni says it’s all too heavy. She says no wonder they lost the war with food like this; you could lose everything, especially your appetite. She comforts herself with lots of German cheeses. We find the Austrian wines delicious and light.
    After dinner we take our wine and sit overlooking what had been a lovely garden, now a little overgrown. It’s just twilight time; small things are bumbling and buzzing in the late evening light. Wallop! Next to me Bornheim has flattened a midge on his arm. What did he do that for? It wasn’t doing any harm. “Another second an’ it would have bit,” he says and Wallop! he exterminates another.
    “Why not have pity and shoo them off?”
    “Oh, no. It’s not as much fun as flattening them,” he said with a grin. “They’ve got a grand piano in the lounge,” he said. Wallop! Another midge dies. “It’s a Bechstein. Like to hear it?”
    We