Oberstleutnant Reishach did not conduct much of his regimental administration from his bedroom. At dawn each morning one of his servants brought him a meal of cold beef and beer, and within half an hour of sunrise he was on his horse clattering north to the army camp, where he spent the rest of the day, sometimes not returning until after dark. However, whenever they could, the nephew and uncle ate a meal together and continued updating their lives.

Two Zuge, platoons, of soldiers were on constant guard around the monastery, but that did not prevent a second attempt to break into the brewery next door, and drunken soldiers became a common sight around the streets of Brno. Several respectable women were accosted in broad daylight, and several not so respectable women began to make a profit after dark. Such activities quickly came to the attention of Bishop Schaffgotsche, who took the lead in protesting to Oberstleutnant Reishach.

When the Bishop found out that Oberstleutnant was a relative of Abbot Napp, and staying in the monastery, his anger grew, but, for the moment, he did nothing.

Daily a Feldwebel, sergeant-major, and a company of soldiers would arrive at the monastery, about mid-morning. Hauptman Steefel would take several pages from the conscription list down to them, and smaller units of soldiers would then spread out around the town and countryside to start taking in their draft. As most of the conscripts could not read or write, they had to be collected and taken to camp personally. Many complained, and scuffles or street fights also became a common occurrence.

The camp began to fill.

"Onkel Cyrill, what do you know of these Hussites?" the nephew asked one evening, "one of my Majors, billeted in town, was pelted with dung this morning, and my officers report an increasing amount of open hostility, which, they say, is driven by Czech nationalists."

"Er," Abbot Napp responded. Brother Matthew had been sulking in the library since the arrival of the soldiers and, as far as Napp knew, had not left the monastery grounds. His excuse was hay fever.

At this time of year the Beifuss bushes that grew along the road north of the monastery, the bushes the English call Artemisia or Southernwood, were heavy with male flowers. Klacel always swore that his hay fever was worse at this time of year, and would go no where near the Uvoz road for that reason; the road was lined with the allergy causing Beifuss bushes. Napp suspected otherwise, but anything that kept Klacel indoors for the next few weeks was worth the price of a little belief.

Beifuss bushes

"Very little," Napp responded, "but this is a strongly nationalistic area, and there is some bad feeling towards Germans even at the best of times. We haven't had too much trouble, but the recent actions of the Belcredi ministry haven't made things any easier."

"Bah, politics," Reishach grunted, "I keep out of it myself. But the Emperor supports you people and your provincial diets, so I suppose we all have to live with it." He paused and looked at his uncle sideways. "I want your help. I have invited the elected town officials, the police Commandant and the Bishop to come and see some of my troops, and watch a training exercise tomorrow. It would be a big favor to me if you, and all your monks, came along and gave me your support."

Surprised by the request, Abbot Napp nodded, "I don't see why not. What are you going to show us?"

"The camp, how we live, how we train, and I've asked my officers to put on a demonstration of Stosstaktik, which is very dramatic." He then had to explain to his uncle that the Austrian High Command was a firm believer in fast moving columns of infantry who attacked with their bayonets, passing as quickly as possible through the fire zone of their enemies. This was the method used by the French infantry in Italy, and it had impressed the older Generals considerably. Unfortunately, for the average soldier in the Austrian army, the basis of this tactic was seriously flawed.

All the evidence was in. During the last war, while fighting the Danes, the Strosstaktik had been used and they had won a great victory. The morale of the Austrian army soared and much of the credit had been given to the shock tactics used and the impact of solid columns of infantry hitting the enemy as quickly as possible. The Danes had crumbled.

But at least one Prussian observer had remarked at the time that the Austrian Stosstaktik had resulted in prohibitive casualties. If the war had lasted longer, the need for replacement soldiers would have overwhelmed the supply, and the Austrian army would have bled to death. This fact escaped the High Command, and their faith in the bayonet was supreme. All could be achieved with gallantry, dash and cold steel.

It was this faith in men moving rapidly towards one another that prevented the timely rearmament of the Austrian infantry. As early as 1864 the war veterans realized that their muzzle loading guns were obsolete, and that the new breechloaders were a necessity, but two factors prevented their adoption; the Lorenz rifle was simpler for raw recruits to use, and also the Vienna arsenal resisted retooling.

the soldiers.

"I would be delighted to come to your demonstration," Abbot Napp told his nephew tactfully, as nothing about the military delighted the good churchman. "But many of my monks have other duties, so our party might be quite small."

Reishach shrugged. "So long as the monastery is represented," he said, reaching for a cigar. "We must impress upon the local population that the army is the friend of the people. We are only doing our job. It is most unfair to be attacked by the Czechs as well as the Prussians." Napp refrained from pointing out that most Czechs living in Moravia supported their Emperor and his army, but nobody liked forced conscription, least of all those that considered themselves an oppressed minority to begin with.

It was at that moment a small boy arrived at the gate asking to speak with Brother Gregory.