1/2
They begged to be let in. The Romans said yes. Within two years, the emperor would be dead and the empire would begin its collapse.
Year 376 AD. The Danube River.
On one side: the Roman Empire, the most powerful civilization on Earth, controlling everything from Britain to Egypt.
On the other side: tens of thousands of desperate Goths—the Thervingi and Greuthungi tribes—fleeing something even the Romans feared.
The Huns.
The Goths massed along the river's edge, families with children, warriors, elders. Behind them, the Huns were coming—a mounted force so terrifying that entire nations abandoned their homelands rather than face them.
The Goths sent messengers to Emperor Valens with a desperate plea: Let us cross. Let us enter the empire. We'll serve you. We'll fight for you. Just save us.
The Romans had handled situations like this before. They had a system. A very specific system that had worked for centuries.
When foreign tribes sought refuge in the empire, the Romans would allow them in—but only after following strict protocols:
Disarm them completely.
Separate the tribe into smaller groups.
Scatter them across distant provinces.
Require them to provide soldiers to Roman legions.
Make them renounce their tribal loyalties.
These rules had protected Rome from internal threats for generations. Follow them, and refugees became productive citizens. Ignore them, and refugees became armies.
Emperor Valens agreed to let the Goths cross.
They begged to be let in. The Romans said yes. Within two years, the emperor would be dead and the empire would begin its collapse.
Year 376 AD. The Danube River.
On one side: the Roman Empire, the most powerful civilization on Earth, controlling everything from Britain to Egypt.
On the other side: tens of thousands of desperate Goths—the Thervingi and Greuthungi tribes—fleeing something even the Romans feared.
The Huns.
The Goths massed along the river's edge, families with children, warriors, elders. Behind them, the Huns were coming—a mounted force so terrifying that entire nations abandoned their homelands rather than face them.
The Goths sent messengers to Emperor Valens with a desperate plea: Let us cross. Let us enter the empire. We'll serve you. We'll fight for you. Just save us.
The Romans had handled situations like this before. They had a system. A very specific system that had worked for centuries.
When foreign tribes sought refuge in the empire, the Romans would allow them in—but only after following strict protocols:
Disarm them completely.
Separate the tribe into smaller groups.
Scatter them across distant provinces.
Require them to provide soldiers to Roman legions.
Make them renounce their tribal loyalties.
These rules had protected Rome from internal threats for generations. Follow them, and refugees became productive citizens. Ignore them, and refugees became armies.
Emperor Valens agreed to let the Goths cross.
2/2
Then everything that could go wrong did.
Mistake One: The Roman commanders at the border didn't disarm the Goths as they crossed.
Mistake Two: They didn't limit how many could cross. Tens of thousands poured over the Danube—soon outnumbering the Roman soldiers stationed there.
Mistake Three: They didn't separate the tribes. The Goths remained unified, organized, dangerous.
Mistake Four: There wasn't enough food. The region couldn't support the sudden population surge. People were starving.
Some Roman officials saw an opportunity.
They began requiring Goths to sell their own children as slaves in exchange for food. One dog for one child. That was the going rate.
Families had to choose: watch your children starve, or sell them into slavery for enough food to survive another week.
Meanwhile, Goths who hadn't been granted permission to cross saw the chaos. They saw Roman forces overwhelmed. They saw their kinsmen crossing safely.
So they crossed too. In waves. Unauthorized. Unstoppable.
The Romans couldn't do anything about it. They were outnumbered, undersupplied, and losing control fast.
The local Roman commander, panicking, came up with a plan.
He invited the two Gothic tribal leaders—Fritigern and Alavivus—to a banquet. A gesture of goodwill. A diplomatic dinner to discuss the situation.
It was a trap.
When the chiefs arrived, Roman soldiers arrested them. The commander held them hostage, thinking this would force the Goths to calm down and accept Roman authority.
It had the opposite effect.
The Goths exploded in rage. Riots broke out across the region. What had been a refugee crisis became an armed rebellion.
The Roman commander, realizing his mistake, tried to fix it by releasing one of the captured chiefs—Fritigern—hoping he'd calm his people.
That was the final mistake.
Once released, Fritigern didn't calm anyone. He took command—not just of his own tribe, but of the other Gothic tribe as well. He united them into a single force.
Then he attacked.
The Goths overwhelmed the Roman forces. They swept across the region, killing soldiers and civilians alike. A Roman historian described it:
"Everything was consumed in an orgy of killing and burning that paid no regard to age or sex."
Entire towns were destroyed. Thousands—tens of thousands—died.
Emperor Valens had no choice. He marched his army north to restore order.
August 9, 378 AD. Adrianople (modern-day Turkey).
The Roman army met the Gothic forces in battle.
It was a massacre.
The Goths destroyed two-thirds of the Roman army. Among the dead: Emperor Valens himself.
The emperor who had agreed to let the Goths in was killed by the people he'd tried to save.
The new Roman leadership had no choice. They couldn't defeat the Goths. They couldn't expel them.
So they made a treaty.
The Goths were allowed to remain in the empire. Not scattered. Not separated. Not disarmed.
They stayed as a unified, autonomous tribe—living inside Roman territory but answering to their own chiefs.
It was unprecedented. It was dangerous. And it set a precedent that would destroy the empire.
Within decades, other tribes would demand the same arrangement. The empire's borders became meaningless. Roman authority eroded.
In 410 AD—just 32 years after Adrianople—Goths under Alaric would sack Rome itself, the first time the city had fallen to foreign invaders in 800 years.
In 476 AD, the Western Roman Empire officially collapsed.
The cascade had started in 376 with one decision: let them in.
But the disaster wasn't inevitable. If Roman commanders had followed the established protocols—disarm, separate, integrate—the Goths would have become productive citizens like countless refugee groups before them.
Instead, a series of cascading failures turned desperate refugees into a conquering army.
They failed to disarm them.
They failed to limit their numbers.
They failed to separate them.
They failed to feed them, then exploited their starvation.
They failed to keep control of the border.
They arrested the chiefs, thinking it would help.
They released one chief, thinking that would help.
Then everything that could go wrong did.
Mistake One: The Roman commanders at the border didn't disarm the Goths as they crossed.
Mistake Two: They didn't limit how many could cross. Tens of thousands poured over the Danube—soon outnumbering the Roman soldiers stationed there.
Mistake Three: They didn't separate the tribes. The Goths remained unified, organized, dangerous.
Mistake Four: There wasn't enough food. The region couldn't support the sudden population surge. People were starving.
Some Roman officials saw an opportunity.
They began requiring Goths to sell their own children as slaves in exchange for food. One dog for one child. That was the going rate.
Families had to choose: watch your children starve, or sell them into slavery for enough food to survive another week.
Meanwhile, Goths who hadn't been granted permission to cross saw the chaos. They saw Roman forces overwhelmed. They saw their kinsmen crossing safely.
So they crossed too. In waves. Unauthorized. Unstoppable.
The Romans couldn't do anything about it. They were outnumbered, undersupplied, and losing control fast.
The local Roman commander, panicking, came up with a plan.
He invited the two Gothic tribal leaders—Fritigern and Alavivus—to a banquet. A gesture of goodwill. A diplomatic dinner to discuss the situation.
It was a trap.
When the chiefs arrived, Roman soldiers arrested them. The commander held them hostage, thinking this would force the Goths to calm down and accept Roman authority.
It had the opposite effect.
The Goths exploded in rage. Riots broke out across the region. What had been a refugee crisis became an armed rebellion.
The Roman commander, realizing his mistake, tried to fix it by releasing one of the captured chiefs—Fritigern—hoping he'd calm his people.
That was the final mistake.
Once released, Fritigern didn't calm anyone. He took command—not just of his own tribe, but of the other Gothic tribe as well. He united them into a single force.
Then he attacked.
The Goths overwhelmed the Roman forces. They swept across the region, killing soldiers and civilians alike. A Roman historian described it:
"Everything was consumed in an orgy of killing and burning that paid no regard to age or sex."
Entire towns were destroyed. Thousands—tens of thousands—died.
Emperor Valens had no choice. He marched his army north to restore order.
August 9, 378 AD. Adrianople (modern-day Turkey).
The Roman army met the Gothic forces in battle.
It was a massacre.
The Goths destroyed two-thirds of the Roman army. Among the dead: Emperor Valens himself.
The emperor who had agreed to let the Goths in was killed by the people he'd tried to save.
The new Roman leadership had no choice. They couldn't defeat the Goths. They couldn't expel them.
So they made a treaty.
The Goths were allowed to remain in the empire. Not scattered. Not separated. Not disarmed.
They stayed as a unified, autonomous tribe—living inside Roman territory but answering to their own chiefs.
It was unprecedented. It was dangerous. And it set a precedent that would destroy the empire.
Within decades, other tribes would demand the same arrangement. The empire's borders became meaningless. Roman authority eroded.
In 410 AD—just 32 years after Adrianople—Goths under Alaric would sack Rome itself, the first time the city had fallen to foreign invaders in 800 years.
In 476 AD, the Western Roman Empire officially collapsed.
The cascade had started in 376 with one decision: let them in.
But the disaster wasn't inevitable. If Roman commanders had followed the established protocols—disarm, separate, integrate—the Goths would have become productive citizens like countless refugee groups before them.
Instead, a series of cascading failures turned desperate refugees into a conquering army.
They failed to disarm them.
They failed to limit their numbers.
They failed to separate them.
They failed to feed them, then exploited their starvation.
They failed to keep control of the border.
They arrested the chiefs, thinking it would help.
They released one chief, thinking that would help.
❤2
Trump should tell the shit-libs that fentanyl is worse than ibuprofen.
💋1
Forwarded from Sergeant News Network 🇺🇸
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🔥JUST IN: In an incredible victory, Kash Patel confirms the Trump administration just seized enough fentanyl to kill 175 MILLION AMERICANS
"That's an increase in fentanyl seizures of over 30%! That's a team-led effort led by a decisive White House and President Trump looks like to counter narcotics!"
🇺🇸Join👉 @SGTnewsNetwork
📎 X (Twitter)▪️Truth Social
"That's an increase in fentanyl seizures of over 30%! That's a team-led effort led by a decisive White House and President Trump looks like to counter narcotics!"
🇺🇸Join👉 @SGTnewsNetwork
📎 X (Twitter)▪️Truth Social
💋4
Forwarded from Cap'n Tater's Greasy Burger Barge
I don't need to say things like "I'm taking a fat dump." Everything I do is implicitly done in the fattest way possible.
- Fatmin
- Fatmin
💋1
Media is too big
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I know its been busy, but I need to remind everyone to continue to dunk on jeets when you have time.
🤮10💋1