When I was a child my mother would take me to the Oktoberfest parade each year to watch the marching bands. I still remember standing on the sidewalk eagerly waiting for the sound of cadence from the drums; the bass drum like the pulse of a living creature and the sound still playing in my mind long after the parade had ended. Years flew by and suddenly I found myself standing in block band awaiting the three sharp chirps of the drum major 's stainless steel whistle a signal that would spark a chain reaction causing each row to step off like a well-oiled machine. Standing as still as statues we waited until the drum major had called "Band ten hut!" after one short whistle and one long whistle the signal that we were about to step off. We answered