Achieves

"This is an M sixty-seven hand grenade. It weights fourteen ounces. It has a steel body containing six point five ounces of Composition B and an M two-thirteen fuse." An EOD specialist was briefing a group of soldiers the specifics of the standard issue grenade. He held one in his hands.

"The fuse is activated once the spoon is released." He pointed to the lever on the side of the grenade.

"Once the safety clip is removed and the pin is pulled, the spoon will spring off unless held in place. The fuse burns for four to five seconds before the explosive filler is detonated. This is a fragmentation grenade, meaning small fragments of metal fly out from the grenade when it detonates. The effective casualty producing radius is fifteen meters, and the effective killing radius is five, but fragments can fly as far as two-hundred-thirty meters. An average soldier can only throw one of these about forty meters, so that means when one is thrown out, you need to get behind cover." He put down the grenade and picked up a blue grenade.

"This is an M sixty-nine practice grenade; with it I will demonstrate the proper throwing technique. First, observe the target to mentally establish the distance between the throwing position and the target area." The instructor peered out and scanned the range for his target.

"Next, grip the hand grenade in the throwing hand. Grasp the pull ring with the index or middle finger of the nonthrowing hand." The instructor stuck his middle finger into the pull ring.

"Next, remove the safety pin with a pulling and twisting motion. Observe to ensure the safety pin's removal." He pulled the pin out of the grenade, exaggerating his motion and line of sight to visualize his talking points.

"Finally, look at the target and throw the grenade using an overhand method so that the grenade arcs, landing on or near the target. Allow the motion of the throwing arm to continue naturally once the grenade is released. This follow-through improves distance and accuracy and lessens the strain on the throwing arm." He threw the grenade at a target on the range, landing within a foot of the target. Seconds later, a puff of white smoke blew out of the practice grenade.

"That target is dead."


"LOOK OUT!" CPL Ku screamed. He threw himself onto the grenade, shielding the others from the blast. The grenade exploded, but the explosion was contained by the corporal's body.

"Ji-Woo!" Veemon yelled. Renamon stood there, mouth agape, staring at the corporal.

"Ku!" The lieutenant rushed to the young soldier. He rolled his body over and cradled him in his arms. "Damnit, Ku." The corporal was still conscious, his head and chest unscathed thanks to his body armor. Unfortunately, his arms and legs were shredded, copious amounts of blood seeping out of every wound.

"Oh, God." The corporal looked at his shredded limbs. "Fuck, fuck, I'm bleeding everywhere. Goddamn! It hurts so much."

"Ku, we have to get tourniquets on your arms and legs now. Where's your IFAK?"

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Ohgodohgodohgodoh-"

"Ku! Calm down. I need that tourniquet."

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm just- AH- I- mmmmmmmmmm…" CPL Ku was looking with wide eyes back and forth at his limbs. His limbs were twitching and continuing to bleed profusely.

"Just try to breathe slow, okay? Don't try to do anything, you'll make it worse." 2LT Joseph found the corporal's IFAK and pulled out the tourniquet. He applied it high on his right thigh. "Hey, you two, help me here."

"What can we do?" Renamon asked.

"Ren, grab his right arm just below the shoulder, wrap your hands around it and squeeze it tight. You need to stop the blood flow." Renamon did as instructed. "Veemon, do the same on the other arm. Corporal, we'll get you out of this, okay?"

"I dunno, sir, I'm not feeling much anymore." The corporal said drowsily. "I wanna go home, sir. I wanna go home."

"Hey, snap out of it. We're gonna get you home, okay?"

"I'm sorry, mother. I messed up." the corporal mumbled in his native tongue. The lieutenant reached under the corporal's vest and started rubbing his abdomen.

"You feel that, concentrate on that."

"Yes, sir." 2LT Joseph reached into his own IFAK with his free hand, pulling out his own tourniquet. He slipped it under CPL Ku's left thigh and, pulling back his other hand, threaded the tourniquet tight. He returned his hand to rubbing the corporal's torso and used his free hand to tighten up the windlass rod.

"Corporal, stay with me."

"Mmmh." the corporal moaned in response. Blood continued to seep out of the corporal's left leg.

"Damnit, come on." The lieutenant continued to tighten the tourniquet, frustrated at the continuing bleeding. He looked at the other leg and noticed it was continuing to bleed as well. He took his other hand from under the corporal's vest and started to tighten the windlass rod on the other tourniquet, too. "Come on, damnit!"

"Michael." Renamon said quietly. The lieutenant was too focused to notice. "Michael." she said louder.

"Hold on." The lieutenant continued to single-mindedly focus on the tourniquets.

"Michael."

"I'm busy, here!"

"Michael!" The lieutenant looked up at her, brows furled.

"Hey! I'm trying to save this man's life here. It'll have to wait."

"I think he's gone…"

"What?" The lieutenant looked up to the corporal's head, his eyes were closed. He did not see his chest rise and fall from breathing.

"Is he…?" Veemon asked.

"NO!" the lieutenant shouted. He grabbed the corporal by the shoulders and shook him. "Don't die on me, damnit!" He stared to do CPR chest compressions. "One, two, three, four…" he counted out loud. After reaching thirty, he put his ear to the corporal's chest. Nothing. He tried again. "One, two, three…" After another thirty, he checked again. Nothing.

The room was silent.

The lieutenant slid back and sat down. He looked around. Veemon sat there, soaked in blood, staring at his deceased partner. Renamon sat, also soaked in blood, staring at the lieutenant, waiting for some direction or action from him. The lieutenant looked back down at himself; his trousers soaked in the corporal's blood. He lifted his hands, opening the palms up to look at them. He stared at the blood-soaked palms of his gloves, contemplating everything.

Another one gone. He thought. My fault again. The lieutenant buried his head in his hands, inadvertently smearing blood all over his own face.

"Fuck!"