Later, the bomb disposal experts confirmed what still makes my palms turn cold.

The green cable was not just a wire — it was a line connected to military-grade explosives and active anti-tank demolition charges.

The area was cordoned off within minutes. People were evacuated, the streets emptied, sirens sliced through the air.

We stood aside, silently watching as the bomb squad in heavy suits slowly approached the shed. Every step they took echoed like a pounding in my temples.

Experts later determined that the charges had been placed about fifty years ago by retreating troops.

A strategic road once ran here, and this section was meant to be destroyed if necessary. It was simply forgotten.

The most terrifying realization came later. When we pulled on the cable with the excavator, we created nearly critical tension — just a little more and a friction igniter would have been triggered.

The explosion would have wiped out not only us, but the entire block.

The bomb squad neutralized the charges down to the last detonator. It turned out that, without realizing it, we had uncovered a network of explosives left behind since the time of the Second World War.