The Great Hillside Massacre near Hanover (242 AD)

The Great Hillside Massacre near Hanover
(242 AD)


The Last Great Germanic Battle

Advance: For the most part, Germany between AD 200-600 was a migrating people, into the early Middle Ages, coming out of the Dark Age. Along the boarders of Austria, Germany all the way to England, Rome’s western provinces, the German people—immigrants for the most part adored to Latin, dialects. It might be fair to say, eventually all the Germanic peoples were Christianized, but not so to the so called, hunters of the deep. While medieval Europe was developing, and the Roman Empire becoming part of it, as a result, common identity, history and culture transcended linguistic boarders.

Segimer II, whose ancestors were present at the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest, about A.D. 9, a three day battle, was about to repeat, that battle, in what would be known as “The Great Hillside Massacre Near Hanover” but in miniature form. At which time his accusers ambushed and destroyed three Roman legions. Thus, he would try to duplicate this feat. One may even say at this point, the German people achieved something they didn’t really seek, an origin. Oh that battle was a harsh one compared to the one to follow, 20,000-Roman soldiers lost their life, many falling on their own swords. Many were taken as sacrificial offerings by the nomadic tribesmen. Some ransomed, and some used as common slaves. But in the forth coming battle, it would be slightly different.



You might want to call it one of the last greatest battles between the Roman Empire, and the German Barbarians (or, hunters of the deep) on the other hand you may want to remember it as, the massacre of Hanover. Roma had not given up complete control over the Germanic countryside’s, especially Northern Germany. There was a great tribesman who had no name in particular, but was call after his ancestors Segimer II, with his cohorts lived in the deep of the forest, and had a hand full of warriors. For weeks they had been chased by the Romans, Rome being of course still the superpower of the known world at the time (241 BC), and the barbarians knew with their superior technology, and long range weapons, they could never defeat the battalion of Romans that seemingly shadowed them, like white on rice, like an elephant to a mouse, and eventually they’d become a trophy, in some Roman home hold, should they not use wit and seizure reasoning for a forthcoming battle that no matter what, would take place. As a consequence, about fifty-miles out site of Handover, the Germanic tribe lured the close to five hundred Roman soldiers into the forest (south of the city of Hanover), where the real battle would take place, instead of this cat and mouse chase through the open spaces.
The leader of the tribe, with his fifty warriors, hunters of the deep, swearing to fight to the last warrior, lured the Romans into the forest, by using wit and trick, and their woman (after the battle, many of the soldiers fell almost into a shock seeing the few women they had captured from the barbarians, now dead, they were not accustomed to seeing dead women among the dead men, the sight of a dead woman was quite appalling, but they had given their lives up, keeping the Romans busy drinking, and comfortably saturated with countryside sex; some with extraordinary beauty, they caught the Roman eye, the blued eyed she-devils, were planted, watered and brought to perfection for just this obscure part of the great massacre, it was no small importance) and wine to subdue them slowly, and then came the overnight ambush, when the legion was sleeping, once awaken by human agony, of the Romans being butchered one by one, the man to man, onslaught began right then and there in the campsite. It was a massive grave by the time the battle finished, the Romans being shredded to a company size level, thus, the standoff killed three froths of the five-hundred men, one hundred and twenty-five left, wandering aimlessly among their dead.
As they looked upon their fellow comrades, the dead comrades, and the dead horses, blood colored the ground everywhere. Shovels, spears, arrows, a catapult, crossbows, all unused, allying dormant in the dirt for posterity, to tell the story, that there was a feverish, great battle that took place here, perhaps the last Germanic battle, on a hillside.
The Germanic tribe, left the loitering Romans to bury their own, and so they did, while the barbarians went several miles south to their forfeited city of stone and logs; they knew if the battle didn’t take place, it was just a matter of time when they’d have to uproot, and take their families into another section of the forest—deeper; it was clear the Romans were determined to wipe out the remaining tribes of the area, and accordingly, in the process, the last great Legion, was reduced to a wandering, aimless company size level.
Most of the Roman soldiers were in shock, walking from one dead man to another, the first few days, they couldn’t even smell the rotting of flesh, or noticed the discoloration, and bloating of the bodies even the mules and horses, dogs that they had, they were almost in a trance, couldn’t find their wits, and when they did, most were resigned to going their own way to get out of the deep, lost, hungry, and the leadership torn apart.
They seemed an unfitting sight for a Roman soldier, looking less than incongruous, if not odd and absurd, finding shallow waters to drink from, and their once baggage animals pushed to one side of the river, to die as they were, some mules and horses tried to get away and were drowned in the shallow water, broken legs from running and tripping.
Speaking literally, one hardly could say, they looked like Roman soldiers, it would have been extremely doubtful to an on looker. All in all, the once pleasant, though dusty, ride though the open fields of Germany and the beautiful forest that brought both compensation and reward to the naked eye for their long endurance over those past long miles, now brought unpleasantness of duty, and the changed impression follow him to his death.
The tribesman, leader, left behind a dozen assassins, and during their disarray, wiped out every Roman soldier left, by either leading them to great bogs, and letting them be sucked into to its depths, or by a more warrior like assassination, and as a result, nothing was left to be written of this last, and lost massacre, previously untold, and now told.

Written (Lima, Peru) 1-5-2009