Peering through his gold rimmed glasses he squinted northwards up the curving road. Coming from the direction of Koblinza street he saw the cause of the disturbance; a platoon of Imperial soldiers was marching with measured cadence down the center of the road. Their heads were held high, and they were trying very hard not to take any notice of the fuss they were causing.

As they got closer he could see their uniforms. Each was wearing a long gray greatcoat with eight white buttons, yellow piping. The coats were held open at the front showing the blue trousers. On their heads each soldier had a shako decorated with a brass Imperial eagle, and held in place by a chin strap. Irreverently, the headgear reminded Brother Gregory of an inverted flower pot.

The single NCO was carried a Kammerbuchsen, but the rest of the gemeiners (privates) carried Lorenz pattern cap-lock rifles with thrust-bayonets in brass-mounted scabbards hung by their by their sides. Moustaches completed the intimidating appearance on each face as they marched past surrounded by a cloud of small excited children.

Marching soldiers were becoming a more and more common sight on the streets of Brno that April of 1866, but they still were exotic enough to cause comment and attract attention. Brother Gregory watched them as they marched down the hill in the direction of the Grand Hotel, but he assumed that they were going to join their companions camped in the open fields just north of the Augustinian monastery.

The quiet life of the monks in the monastery had been broken a few days ago, late in March, when the first Imperial soldiers of Francis Joseph arrived to set up their tents. A company of about 100 men and 20 wagons had arrived unannounced, trundled past the gates and occupied the broken ground just west of the Uvoz road. As the monks watched in fascination, the soldiers casually unpacked their wagons and set about establishing a temporary military camp right on their doorstep.

At first the Brothers had been as excited as the small boys of the town, who clustered round the soldiers and followed them everywhere they went. But the excitement quickly wore off. Camp life seemed to consist mostly of sitting around fires and cooking. The monks soon lost interest, except when a party of drunken privates tried to break into the brewery next door to the Monastery, causing a lot of damage and disturbance.

As the days past, the camp grew larger and more tents sprang up. Smokey fires burned constantly and new parties of marching solders arrived daily. Brother Gregory watched them with more interest than some of his companions; his father had been a soldier in the last days of Napoleon and had often told his family of his adventures under the colors.

Now, however, after a long day teaching in the Realschule, his interest in things military was at its lowest and he was anxious to complete his two remaining tasks of the day and get off home to his dinner.