The threads groaned against the salt crust.

“It’s moving,” Kenneth said.

“Easy now,” I said.

“That brass collar is brittle.”

It took six minutes of steady hand pressure to work the collar off the rusted threads.

I lifted the steel cap free and passed it to Kenneth.

Down in the neck, the firing pin assembly sat crooked, held by a corroded steel wire.

Kenneth took out the aluminum canister and unscrewed its threaded lid.