ANipponese grenade flies towards him from the direction of the left field bleachers, making a stripping noise as it passes through the fronds of a palm tree. Shaftoe ducks his head behind another tree so that he can’t see the grenade. It explodes and tears the clothing, and a good deal of the skin, from one of his arms and one of his legs. But like all Nip grenades it is poorly made and miserably ineffectual. Shaftoe turns around and uncorks a spume of .45-caliber rounds in the general direction the grenade came from; this should give the thrower something to think about while Shaftoe gets his bearings.