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Updated: April 30, 2025
The next thing I saw was those crazy Bavarians, with their little flat drums beating, and their fur-crested helmets all bobbing, marching calmly up the Geisberg. Jack, those fellows went through the vineyards like fiends astride a tempest. That was at two o'clock. The Prussian Crown-Prince rode into the town an hour before; we couldn't hold it Heaven knows why.
Somewhere, in the smoke, a Prussian band was playing gayly, and Jack thought of the Bavarians at the Geisberg, and their bands playing as the men fell like leaves in the Château gardens. He had his field-glasses with him, and he fixed them on the advancing columns. They were Bavarians, after all there was no mistaking the light-blue uniforms and fur-crested helmets.
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