On the other side, Morin found the International Brigades’ temporary camp. He easily located the bearded commander, Andrei—the commander of the ‘Eastern Europa Brigade, 2nd Regiment, 1st Battalion’ who had fought alongside them earlier.
The commander was, just as Ludwig had guessed, leading several men in the production of Molotov cocktails.
“Andrei, my friend, are you making Molotov cocktails?” Morin walked up and asked him.
“Yes, Morin! But we’ve collected too little soap and rubber tires. This means we don’t have enough thickening agent, and the effect of the Molotov cocktails will be greatly reduced.” Andrei sighed, putting down his work, then looked curiously at Morin. “Second Lieutenant Morin, what brings you here?”
“Well, I do need your help with something!” Morin did not hide his intention and spoke directly.
“Speak freely, Second Lieutenant Morin. Anything I can do.” Andrei was a straightforward Slav, very much the ‘Maozi’ (a Chinese term for Russians/Slavs). After fighting alongside Morin and witnessing his handling of the disciplinary issue, he had developed a good impression of the young Second Lieutenant, who didn’t fit the mold of a traditional Saxon officer.
“I need a few people.” Morin went straight to his request. “Do you have anyone in your ranks who used to be a chemistry teacher? Or maybe a blacksmith or foundry worker? The more skilled, the better.”
“Chemistry teacher? Craftsmen?” Andrei scratched his thick beard, his expression puzzled. “My friend, we are a volunteer army, not a university or a factory… But now that you mention it, I think I do have a few candidates.”
He turned and called out a few names. Soon, several men were brought before Morin. Leading them was a scholarly, bespectacled middle-aged man who looked a bit tired and melancholic. The bearded commander introduced him as a chemistry professor from a university in West-Lucia who had fled after being sought for publishing anti-war statements. Behind him were several burly men with calloused hands, who were introduced as experienced workers familiar with smelting and casting.
Morin took a deep breath, looking at the hastily assembled ‘professional team.’ Success or failure depends on this one move.
Andrei, looking at the strange assembly, grew even more curious. “So, Second Lieutenant Morin, what exactly are you planning to do?”
“I want to make a ‘can opener’ for the Britannian’s white Iron Cans.”
Morin led the group back to the Teutonic Knights’ camp, where Ludwig had already laid out the items ‘borrowed’ from the artillery camp. Morin found a table and quickly sketched a diagram of a structure with a peculiar design, then looked at the group.
“Gentlemen, I need your help. Using these materials…” Morin pointed to the shells and casings on the ground, “…to build the object in this drawing.”
The professor adjusted his glasses, examining the diagram carefully, his frown deepening. The workers, meanwhile, gathered around the shells, their eyes full of curiosity. Ludwig stood nearby like an outsider, watching the entire scene. He watched Morin issue instructions methodically, bringing together Saxon artillerymen, an International Brigades professor, and workers—disparate individuals—and his sense of bizarre wonder only grew stronger. How did this famous Dresden playboy have so many strange ideas in his head?
Looking at the shells, casings, and strange blueprints laid out on the table, Ludwig felt that Morin seemed less like a Saxon officer and more like an alchemist.
“Alright, gentlemen!” Morin clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Time is short. Let’s get to work!”
What followed was an unprecedented ‘alchemy’ in this temporary workshop. Morin was the director, the chemistry professor from West-Lucia was the technical consultant, and the workers from various backgrounds were the core implementers.
The first and most dangerous step was disassembling the intact 105mm shells. The leFH 98/09 105mm howitzer used separate ammunition. Morin needed the picric acid (the yellow explosive) inside the projectile. This task was assigned to the veteran artillerymen. They cautiously used tools to unscrew the KlAZ23 fuse of the 105mm high explosive shell, then slowly rotated it counter-clockwise to remove it. Fine beads of sweat formed on everyone’s forehead. Normally, they wouldn’t disassemble shells, and if they did, it would be in a professional, safe environment in the rear, not in a makeshift shed in a war zone.
“Slowly, slower…” one veteran murmured, as if gently touching his wife’s face.
Ludwig stood at a distance, watching the scene, suddenly regretting his decision to stay and watch the excitement with Morin. He felt he would rather pilot his Armored Knight into a charge against ten Order of Garter Armored Knights than remain in this place that could blow up at any moment.
Morin appeared much calmer. He watched the artillerymen operate with interest, learning how they separated the warhead and casing. When the first shell was successfully disassembled and the block of yellow explosive was extracted intact, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
While the artillerymen disassembled the shells, the chemistry professor and the workers heated a large crucible from the Knights Order. Their task was to melt the brass casings and cast hollow metal cones according to Morin’s drawing.
“Bellows! Increase the airflow!” a master craftsman shouted, his dark skin glowing red from the furnace fire.
The roaring flames intensified. The carefully cleaned and cut casings slowly melted in the high heat, turning into a golden liquid. Meanwhile, another worker was quickly shaping conical molds from clay. His hands flew over the clay, and soon, one precise conical mold after another was formed.
The chemistry professor watched the workers operate and then spoke to Morin: “Second Lieutenant, I understand that most nations use copper-zinc alloy for their shell casings. Since zinc’s boiling point is lower than copper’s melting point, directly melting the copper like this will cause a loss of zinc during the process…”
“Isn’t that perfect?”
“Huh?” Morin smiled at the professor’s confused expression. “I actually want a pure copper hollow cone. Any other impurities would be detrimental.”
“Is that so? Then I understand.” The chemistry professor nodded. After confirming these details, he began calculating the necessary explosive equivalent and the optimal angle for the cone, based on Morin’s descriptions.
Initially, he had been highly skeptical of Morin’s theory. “A hollow? Using a cavity to focus the energy of an explosion?” The professor adjusted his glasses, shaking his head repeatedly. “Second Lieutenant, this completely violates traditional demolition theory… energy should diffuse; how can it be focused?”
Morin patiently explained: “Professor, you can think of it as light. We use a concave mirror to focus sunlight onto a single point. The explosive energy shockwave diffuses along the normal (perpendicular to the surface), and in some ways, the principle is the same.”
Based on his earlier probing, Morin had realized that the ‘Monroe Effect’ had not yet been discovered in this world, so he had to use the most common analogy possible. The professor was half-believing, but he quickly picked up a pen and paper and began calculating furiously. He was drawn in by the novel theory; his academic curiosity had overridden his existing knowledge. In that moment, he was transported back to the university classroom.
The makeshift workshop beside the Teutonic Knights’ camp quickly began operating efficiently, as everyone realized that this device was directly connected to their survival. The artillerymen handled the disassembly, the workers handled the smelting and casting, the professor provided calculations and theoretical support, and Morin was the brain connecting all the moving parts.
Initially, there was some tension between the individuals from different nations and social classes. The Saxon soldiers looked down on the perceived laxity of the International Brigades workers, and the workers remained wary of the Imperial soldiers. But as the work progressed, with a common goal and Morin’s effective organization, those divisions gradually faded. They began to cooperate, understanding each other with just a glance or a gesture.
Ludwig watched all of this quietly from the side. He saw a peculiar kind of cohesiveness forming around the young Second Lieutenant. Morin was able to bring people of completely different identities, backgrounds, and ideologies together to work tirelessly toward a single goal. This was even more shocking to Ludwig than the ‘can opener’ Morin was about to create.
(End of Chapter 46)