It was still scary, being there with all those strangers, but they all seemed so accepting. They all wanted to talk to everyone, including us lowly freshmen. They asked if we had gotten our class schedules yet, and told us which teachers to look out for! And gees, even those scary drum majors seemed really personable!
Conversation was as plentiful as it was diverse on the bus ride to camp. People talked about summer, instruments, band in general, families, nicknames, lunch, cameras, pets, and bio warfare. A few people were involved in some pretty intense religious discussions, and others talked about the books they had read over the summer for their advanced English classes. But I think what grabbed my attention the most was the conversation taking place a few seats ahead of me. Eddie the drum major was being harassed by a group of girls. The issue: Eddie shaved his legs. The girls' complaint: Eddie's legs were smoother than theirs. Eddie's justification: he has to shave his legs, he plays baseball! Apparently tight pants and leg hair just don't mix!
Wow, were these people ever strange. As the trip progressed even stranger conversations started. I began to feel extremely comfortable, and was able to be myself, something I had never been able to do my entire like. It hit me that these people were very kind, accepting, and down right funny and interesting people. What were they doing in high school marching band? They all even seemed to care about the band too!
Finally we arrived at camp. Ah, cool, fresh mountain air, pine trees, and cabins. I was used to a huge city, a man-made little bubble of heat, smog, and suffering. Once off the bus we continued conversations. I was sitting with a group of people under the shade of a tall pine tree. There were several other freshmen with us.
We relaxed for a few minutes and stretched our legs. Suddenly, as if from no where, came a low barking noise. "BARK! BARK BARK!" It sounded almost human! And in turn, just as suddenly as the noise itself, every single returning member snapped into what they called "attention."
They stood motionless with their heals together, feat spread to a 45 degree angle. Their backs were straight and stiff, shoulders pulled back, arms to their side, slightly bent at the elbow. Their hands balled up into little fists, their thumbs rested at the seams of their pants. Their chins were up in that same dignified position, eyes again focused straight forward, not on anything in particular, just forward, and not moving. The freshman pathetically tried to mimic this position, not a single soul talking or moving. None of us understood what had happened. But we knew they meant business. Not knowing the specifics however, made for a poor imitation from the freshman.
Then the three drum majors, who had been standing at the front of the crowd the entire time, dropped attention and began to circle around the band members very intently. They corrected several people's positions as they went along. The drum majors had reverted hack to creepiness without even breaking a sweat. It was now that I realized that the barking sound had come from one of them. Some sort of command, I supposed.
The director started calling out names, and people would run to him and take a name tag he held out for them. Boy did they run. After they had the name tag, they ran to the drum majors. Who placed them into straight lines. Eventually we were all put into the lines, and there we stood for several awkward minutes, in that back aching position. Then the teaching began.
We were taught a new position called "stand-by", as well as the "attention". Stand-by was a more relaxed position, it was in fact the very position that the creepy drum majors had been standing in at the first meeting. The barking sound from earlier was, as I supposed, the vocal command that would take the band out of stand-by and into attention.
Immediately following one of the drum majors calls to attention the band was expected to respond with a low and loud "HUT!" "Ladies, do your best," Eddie said with a smirk on his face. I'm sure that one didn't go over too well with some of the returning girls. We were instructed to make the hut sound guttural, and low as possible, but we were supposed to yell it. When a 60 piece band executes this vocal response at the same time, the effect is amazing. And it is the first impression a judge at a competition will have of the band as a whole.
"BAND! TEN HUT!" The exercise was repeated over and over. I was so thankful for the gentle breeze and cooler weather. There was even a little cloud cover, it looked like rain! After what seemed like an eternity it became almost second nature, the snap from position to position. And yet we drilled on. When we were finally allowed to relax we were exhausted.
This was not at all what I had expected from marching band! It seemed more like a military! If Stevens or the drum majors ever asked us a question (as a group or individually) that required a yes or no answer, we were expected to respond with a loud, low, and firm "YES SIR!" or "NO SIR!"
We were given our cabin assignments and told to go get settled in, lunch would be soon. Once in the cabins a senior informed me not to loose my name tag, or they'd make me sing in front of everybody at breakfast to get it back! Boy, could this day get any better? I tossed my heavy duffel on the top bunk by a window. The room had five bunk beds, and the ten girls in my cabin were really pretty cozy and snug.
People seemed pretty much at home here at the camp. The returning member reminisced about previous camps. I found myself enjoying their tales. They talked about the games we would be playing every night. Also, they talked about the last night of camp, when every section has to perform a skit instead of playing games. They talked about the aching, the sweating, and how good the stale, probably rotting mattress would feel after another few hours of working. I started to feel comfortable again, like I had on the bus.
Before I knew it an hour had passed, and it was time for our meeting before lunch. Man was I hungry! A bunch of girls brought some of us freshman over to the meeting place, a field where we would be doing most of our work. There had been a field cleared from the forest, just the size of a football field, and just a few steps beyond the sidelines was thick pine trees. This really was a nice change from the city.
At 11:30, Stevens promptly started his meeting. He was just starting to talk about not wandering off on any of the hiking trails without someone knowing where you would be, when a group of four sophomore boys came running from the direction of the cabins. "To be late is to be left."