Dancing with the Universe

I've been reading "Seven Peaches", a collection of seven issues of "The Desert Peach". It's a comic set in World War II, and follows the exploits of Erwin Rommel's fictional, very gay brother. The first issue didn't thrill me, but they've been getting steadily better, passing into hysterical; the art is pretty good too.

An excerpt:
Colonel Pfirsch happens upon his orderly, Udo, and another soldier behind a rock. Udo has his hat on a stick, waving it above the rock to tempt someone down the escarpment into shooting. Peach asks why.

Soldier: Udo claims he can pinpoint their nationality this way.
Peach: Oh?
Udo: Depends on how they shoot, Mein Herr.
Peach: Shoot! They know better than that.
(Peach has an informal cease-fire agreement with the local British commander, in exchange for free breakfasts for British soldiers at the German camp.)
Udo: Na, not everybody gets the message, Mein Herr.
Peach: Too true, dear. All right -- how?
Udo: Na, if it's the British, they'll shoot a few times, miss -- and quit.
If they shoot a whole lot, miss, and quit -- they're Irish.
If they shoot once, miss, and quit -- it's the Scots.
And if you just hear a wzzz! and it misses -- that's a boomerang. That's the Aussies.
Peach: Udo, dear -- what if it's other Germans?
Udo: Uh-uh, Herr. Other Germans'd have a hat on a stick, trying to find out who we are.
Soldier: All right, gerneweis -- what about British Colonials? What if they're Gurkhas?
Udo: They're in the trench with you!
Udo: Hm; still haven't tried to pick it off. Must be the Americans.
Soldier: Howzat?
Udo: With the Amis, you wait a half hour, and then you get an artillery barrage.

At this point, the Peach (thoroughly dismayed) goes off to have breakfast with the camp's British POW, who has a rough copy of the camp's newsletter that needs proofreading.

It's like M*A*S*H gone mad.