I hadn't heard of this group before.
Which brought to mind, after reading the Last Six Seconds the other day, it reminded me of something, so I dug out the book, and the particular passage:
Glasebrook hit with the point of his shoulder as if the grove was a tackling dummy. Mud sprayed as his cleats bit and thrust him through the resistance. Farrell saw the flicker of the precursor charges dispersing the grenade fuel across the interior.
The grenades with off with a huge red flash. The reeds and everything within them disintegrated. The shock wave knocked won people fifty feet away and flung Art Farrell backward from his perch.
If there was a heaven, Glasebrook had just blown his way through the door.
You know why we are affected so by words like this? Because there really are people like that.