Chapter 12 Where's My Carolingian Cook?

Twenty minutes later.

Vasily looked at the scant pile of metal on the jeep and couldn't help but hold his forehead, "This little stuff is hardly enough to cause the enemy any real trouble."

Filippov said, "After all, the fake minefield we created is quite large. If the enemy's pathway isn't where we placed these things, then it would have been for nothing."

Vasily looked around.

The open fields near Loktov were scattered with numerous civilian houses, mostly barns and cattle sheds, with few actual homes.

Even if there were homes, the locals had long since fled to the city, leaving behind very little metal.

Touching his neck, Vasily muttered, "Now what do we do..."

Filippov slapped his thigh, "I've got it! The supply depot sent us pickled cucumber cans thinking they were shells. The jars are made of glass, sure, but the lids are metal!"

Vasily looked surprised, "Eh? That's something I should have thought of, how come you came up with it this time? Ah, I get it!"