All language subtitles for Hidden.Beneath.the.Cities.S01E07.Buried.Battleship.and.Viking.Victims.1080p.DSNP.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-KHN_track3_[eng]

In 2010, construction
on New York City's

Freedom Tower comes
to an abrupt halt

after workers make
a surprising discovery.

Buried in the soil
were what appeared to be

curved planks of wood
from a boat.

When the original
towers were built,

it appears this wreck had gone
entirely unnoticed.

So the big question
is, where did it come from?

In Oxford, England,

archaeologists uncover
a disturbing site.

A careful excavation
uncovered up to 38 skeletons

piled on top of one another.

This site had all the hallmarks
of a mass grave.

So who were these men?

And why were they killed
in such a brutal manner?

In Warsaw, Poland,

excavations reveal a series
of hidden wartime spaces.

In one of the basements,

a burnt library of Hebrew texts

alongside religious objects
were found.

But how exactly
were these spaces used,

and what can they tell us
about the lives of those

who once passed through them?

Below the busy
streets of the world's cities

exists a hidden
realm of wonder.

Sprawling ancient complexes,

mysterious tombs,

top-secret military bases,

strange structures,

and lost artifacts,

buried beneath our feet
and long forgotten,

until now.

Underground marvels are exposed
to reveal what lies...

Hidden Beneath the Cities.

New York's bustling
Lower Manhattan area

is home to the city's
historic Financial District.

The Financial
District is one of the most

iconic neighborhoods
in New York City.

It's the location
of St. Paul's Chapel,

where George Washington
attended a service

after he took the presidential
oath of office

for the first time on
the balcony at Federal Hall

right nearby, which was serving
as the US Capitol building.

Just steps away,
you'll find Wall Street,

the economic center
of the country,

home to the New York
Stock Exchange

and some of the biggest banks
in the world.

This district
is unfortunately

burned into modern memory

because of the infamous
September 11th terrorist attacks

in 2001, when two
commercial airplanes

were deliberately flown

into the World Trade Center's
Twin Towers.

Nearly 3,000
people died in the tragedy

that day, making it one of
the most consequential dates

in US history.

The 9/11 attacks
would forever change

the country's
political trajectory

and lead to global conflicts
in Iraq and Afghanistan.

A lot of America's political
leaders were pretty determined

to rebuild at Ground Zero
where the towers had fallen.

And in 2006, construction began

on what was ultimately called
the Freedom Tower.

This thing was going to be
the tallest building

in New York City, and
the symbolism was super clear.

This was a sign of defiance
from the United States

that it would rise
from the ashes of 9/11

even stronger than
it had been before.

But in July of 2010,

construction of the Freedom Tower

suddenly grinds to a halt

when workers make
an unexpected discovery.

Buried in
the soil 22 feet deep

were what appeared to be curved
planks of wood from a boat.

Eventually, an archaeological
survey uncovered

600 of these pieces.

And what emerged from the soil

was the wooden frame of
a remarkable sailing vessel.

The ship was 50 feet long
and 18 feet wide

and had what's called
a shallow draft design,

which means it was
intended to sail

in bays, lakes,
and coastal waters.

The boat was made from
hickory, spruce, pine, and oak,

but the knotty wood that was
selected for the hull suggests

that finishing the boat
quickly was prioritized

over finding high-quality
construction materials.

Iron fasteners were used
to hold the planks together

instead of durable wooden pegs.

This is likely because
the boat wasn't expected

to have a long period of use.

When the original
towers were built,

it appears this wreck had
gone entirely unnoticed.

In fact, the ship's hull
had been bisected

by one of the Twin Towers'
massive subterranean walls.

And because it had essentially
been sealed up,

the vessel and its artifacts
were remarkably well preserved.

The keel showed
signs of wear and tear,

probably from repeated landings
in shallow rocky waters.

But here's what's really neat:

there were munitions found
among the ship's remains,

including 56 musket balls
and 251 pieces of bird shot.

If this vessel had ever
had cannons or guns,

they had been removed
before it was buried.

So the big question is: was this
a military boat used in warfare?

And if it was,
where did it come from?

Scientists look
to answer those questions

by analyzing
the tree ring patterns

on the boat's wooden planks.

The results are then compared
with a master list

of old growth trees
in the eastern US.

Using this method,
the point of origin for the wood

was determined to be near
Philadelphia during the 1770s.

This was the time of
the American Revolutionary War.

Philadelphia was the political
center and de facto capital

of the forces that were looking
to free themselves

from British rule.

It was in Philadelphia
on July 4, 1776,

that the Continental Congress
in Independence Hall

formally adopted
the Declaration of Independence

of the United States.

Incredibly, the wood from
the Ground Zero vessel

matches samples of timber
taken from Independence Hall.

Now the boat may have
been deployed from Philadelphia,

but there's evidence that it
sailed a lot farther than that.

The hull has holes in it,

and those holes come from
these mollusks called shipworms,

people call them
the termites of the sea.

But here's the thing:
the species of shipworm

found on this vessel normally
thrives in the warm salt waters

of the southern seas,

not the fresh waters of
the Delaware and Hudson Rivers.

The story of this
boat's journey and service

may be a complicated one,
but there's a possibility

it was never intended to be
a military vessel.

With its single mast
and headsail,

this boat is what's
known as a sloop,

and it may have initially been
a privately owned merchant ship.

As the war escalated, so-called
privateers were commandeered

by the Americans to help
fight the Royal Navy.

With the US Navy still
in its infancy,

these refitted vessels
became an essential part

of the American
maritime war effort.

In 1775, General
George Washington commissioned

a small fleet of schooners to
attack British supply ships.

Eventually, 1,800 privateers
were authorized for combat

by the Continental Congress.

This boat may have been
one of them.

But how do you explain
the damage from the shipworms?

There's certainly historical
precedent for privateers

operating along
the American coast

and even throughout
the Caribbean.

In 1776, the Philadelphia
privateer Hancock

sailed to the West Indies
and managed to overtake

a large British vessel
that was bound for London.

Perhaps the Ground Zero ship
had been deployed

to a similar locale.

It may have been built

to terrorize the Royal Navy,

but there's evidence that
the Ground Zero ship

may have later fallen
into British hands.

There were hundreds
of artifacts excavated

with the ship's remains,

including shoe buckles
and drinking canisters.

But the most interesting
artifact was a button.

Just this one
flat, pewter button,

but it was stamped
with the number 52 on it.

That's a big deal, because
it suggests that this was part

of the British Army's
52nd Regiment--

that's a company that was active
in the Revolutionary War

between 1775 and 1778.

Notably, the 52nd Regiment
had taken part

in the occupation
of Philadelphia.

So maybe this stray button

fell off
a British soldier's jacket

while he and his battalion

were seizing this ship
from American sailors.

The British
would have seen this boat

as particularly useful.

A sloop could have more easily
navigated the shallow waters

within the West Indies,

where the British were warring
with the Spanish and the French

over island resources.

It could have provided
this vessel

with a dramatic second act.

Island goods such as sugar

were arguably more important
economically to the British

than the 13 American
colonies were.

The 1782 Battle of the Saints
is an example

of a massive naval battle
with the French,

where the British would
have likely redirected

many of their ships
to the Caribbean.

Service in these warmer waters
would explain the presence

of shipworms
on this mysterious boat.

The history
of British naval warfare

in the Caribbean Islands
is well documented,

but there are no
historical records

that link this ship
to a southern voyage.

A passage in a logbook
or from colonial reports

out of this area may one day
prove this theory,

but for now it's based on purely
circumstantial evidence.

Ultimately, the tree
rings that mark the timbers

of the ship are
the clearest signifiers

of the ship's origin
and its mission.

We know that our
mystery ship was likely built

in a Philadelphia shipyard
in the 1770s.

And in the summer of 1775,
the Continental Congress

reportedly approved
the construction of 13 warships,

one for each colony.

Each of those was outfitted
with between 24 and 32 guns.

And included as part of that
hastily assembled fleet

were four merchant vessels that
were converted into gunships.

So it's entirely possible that
the Ground Zero gunboat sailed

alongside these first ships
of the Continental Navy.

The flat pewter button
is the best evidence

that the boat later encountered
British aggressors.

In 1777, American boats
failed to stop

the Royal Navy's approach
along the Delaware River,

and interestingly,
historical records indicate

that at least one
American warship was captured

by the British
during the battle.

You can imagine
the newly commandeered gunship

serving in the southern waters
for a period of time

before returning to
British-occupied New York

to be decommissioned
and stripped for parts.

By 1790, seven years
after the Treaty of Paris

had formally recognized
the Americans' victory

over the British,

New York was working to expand
its Manhattan shoreline.

This mysterious gunboat
from the Revolutionary War

likely became part
of the landfill.

In the end,
after being hidden from view

for two centuries,

the story behind
the Ground Zero gunship's life

during wartime remains
a confounding secret.

After the ship was
pulled piece by piece

out of the rubble
from Ground Zero,

it underwent a 14-year process
of analysis and documentation.

In the spring of 2025,

the ship was brought to the
New York State Museum in Albany,

where it remains
on exhibit today

as part of the institution's
permanent collection.

From the Revolutionary War

to the ruins
of the World Trade Center,

this vessel's greatest journey
may be the unexpected link

created between these
two monumental moments

in American history.

In south central England,

just 50 miles from London,

lies the historic
Oxford University.

Teaching at
Oxford University is believed

to have begun as early as 1096,
which would make it

the oldest university
in the English-speaking world.

Its alumni includes
31 British prime ministers,

and its relationship
to the monarchy

goes back for centuries.

The Oxford area began

as a 9th century settlement
under King Alfred the Great,

who established it as
a fortified town called a burh.

Its defensive ditches and walls
were intended to provide defense

against Viking raids.

In the 17th century,

King Charles I set up
his headquarters

at the university during
the English Civil War.

The university remains

one of the most prestigious
in the world.

Much of the research at Oxford
has helped shape

our modern world from political
philosophy to quantum computing.

It's an institution that
remains at the forefront

of social and
scientific studies.

In January of 2008,
a new student housing complex

is set to be built behind

the university's
St. John's College.

The city had requested that
an archaeological survey

be conducted at the site
before construction began.

And just hours
into the excavation,

something strange was found
buried beneath the soil.

It appeared to be
an enclosure

approximately 400 feet
in diameter.

But two months later,
there was another find.

And it was a shocker.

Buried haphazardly
just below the enclosure

were human remains.

A careful excavation uncovered
up to 38 skeletons

piled on top of one another.

There were no coffins
and no gravestones

found inside the trench.

So these people were
apparently buried

without any tradition
or ceremony,

sometimes face down,
sometimes on their side.

This site had all the hallmarks
of a mass grave.

An analysis of the remains

determined that
they were all male.

But aside from the jumble
of human bones,

there were very few other clues

to their identities
buried inside the pit.

No grave goods, weapons,

or remnants of clothing
like buckles or pins,

which suggested these men
were stripped before burial.

And further to that,
all of the skeletons

showed horrific evidence
of traumatic injuries.

Some of the victims
suffered

cracked and broken skulls.

Many of them had puncture wounds
to the spine and to the pelvis.

Some of them had marks that
showed they were attacked

on all sides, and at least
a dozen of them

looked like they'd been
stabbed in the back.

Shockingly,
one individual

had been fully decapitated, and
at least five other skeletons

showed evidence of multiple
failed decapitation attempts.

What's more,
several individuals appeared

to have suffered severe burns

on their heads, backs,
and pelvic regions.

All of this painted a disturbing
picture of a scene

that must have been
unspeakably violent.

So who were these men,

and why were they killed
in such a brutal manner?

The enclosure
is called a henge,

likely a site for
religious ceremonies,

and its craftsmanship dates it
to the late Neolithic period,

around 4,000 years ago.

But the human remains
appear to be

from a different era entirely.

An examination of
the remains placed the burial

sometime in the early
11th century.

During that time in England,
the Anglo-Saxon monarchy

was ruled by a king named
Aethelred the Unready,

and his nickname is
a translation

of an Anglo-Saxon word
that means "poorly advised."

He got the name because
his reign was marked

by ill-advised domestic
and foreign policy decisions.

He probably wasn't the king
you would have wanted

in charge of the country during
a particularly tumultuous time.

Before Athelred's reign,
a significant part of England

had been occupied
by Danish settlers

after being conquered by one
of the country's arch enemies:

the Vikings from
northern Europe.

After decades of relative peace,

the kingdom was suddenly
suffering from a fresh wave

of attacks from marauding
Viking armies.

King Aethelred made a highly
questionable decision

to pay off the Vikings with
thousands of pounds of silver

in exchange for peace.

At the same time

Aethelred had been paying off
Viking armies,

he'd also been hiring
Danish mercenaries

to defend the country's
coastal borders

from other Viking raiders.

But in 997 CE, some
of those mercenaries flipped

on the king and began raiding
England's southern counties.

Searching for answers,

researchers analyzed the
remains at a subatomic level

to determine their origin.

A laboratory analysis
of 13 victims

revealed a diet high in fish,
which would have been

more common for
a seafaring community.

Further to this, tooth enamel
from the skulls was examined

to help trace the geology
and climate

these individuals might
have been raised in.

The results indicated the people
in the pit were not Anglo-Saxon.

These men had come from
a colder climate consistent

with northern Europe.

So was this mass grave
the final resting place

for a group of Vikings?

All of the men were
determined to have been

between 16 and 35 years old.

The areas where the bones
would have attached

to the victims' musculature
revealed that they were

not only in great
physical condition,

but many were unusually tall.

In addition, some skeletons
exhibited battle scars.

All of this strongly suggested
that this was a group

of military men
from northern Europe.

One could imagine
a Viking raiding party

making an incursion
into this area of Oxford

only to be defeated
by Anglo-Saxon armies.

In this scenario, about 38
Viking raiders could have been

captured and executed

before being buried
in the pit at Oxford.

These men would have met
a grisly fate.

One year after
the remains were discovered

on Oxford's campus,
just over 80 miles away

in the town of Dorset,

archaeologists dug up
another mass grave.

And the similarities to
the Oxford site were striking.

The grave in Dorset
contained the remains

of 54 military-aged men from the
late 10th or early 11th century.

And once again,
the men were determined

to have originated
from northern Europe.

But unlike the Oxford grave,

every single one of these males
at Dorset was decapitated.

When we consider that
both Oxford and Dorset

were under the control
of the Anglo-Saxon kingdom,

maybe the men found in both
of these grave sites

were considered a threat and
summarily executed by the state.

So it is possible
that these are the bones

of a Viking raiding party, but
there's no historical account

of any massacre
that fits the bill.

So we do have to be open
to other possibilities.

Historical records
suggest the Viking mercenaries

who had betrayed King Aethelred

had themselves
become marked men.

After the king's use
of the mercenaries backfired,

Aethelred issued a royal decree

that would have far-reaching
and bloody consequences.

The king claimed that he had
uncovered a Danish plot

to overthrow his kingdom and
called for what he referred to

as a "just extermination"
of all Danes in England.

His decree led to the infamous
St. Brice's Day massacre,

which saw countless Danes
slaughtered across the country.

This was
an incredibly dark day

in the history of England.

And the age of the bones
in the Oxford grave

certainly lines up with the date
of the king's proclamation.

It suggests these men
were likely executed

as part of a countrywide sweep
of Danish enemy combatants.

Perhaps they were from
a garrison of mercenaries

stationed outside of Oxford

that had once been
in the king's employ.

Arguably,
the St. Brice's Day massacre

was retribution
for their treachery.

There's documentation
of a high-ranking earl

named Pallig Tokeson, who served
as one of the king's mercenaries

before joining up
with a Viking garrison.

After Aethelred's decree,
Pallig's wife was reportedly

murdered during
the St. Brice's Day massacre.

So, turncoat mercenaries
and their associates

were clearly
on the king's hit list.

So, are these skeletons
Danish settlers

that were rounded up
and massacred?

Are they Viking raiders that
were defeated and then executed?

Or are they mercenaries
who double-crossed the king

and got dispatched by a mob?

We don't know!

Documented evidence
from the king himself

could point to a horrifying
story behind the mass grave.

After
the St. Brice's Day massacre,

a letter from Aethelred reported
that a number of Danes in Oxford

had escaped a violent mob by
taking refuge in a local church.

The mob responded by
setting the church on fire.

Those Danes who weren't
killed in the fire

were hunted down
and slaughtered.

After that, we can assume
that the bodies were stripped

of their clothing before
being unceremoniously buried

within the remnants
of the ancient enclosure.

The king's story could
be interpreted to mean

that the men in this mass grave
were not enemy combatants,

but rather members of the local
Danish population

living in or around Oxford.

Following the king's decree,

maybe these individuals were
rounded up and butchered

by members of Oxford's
Anglo-Saxon community.

The king's story
of the burning church

correlated directly
with the charred remains

found at the Oxford site.

And the haphazard wounds found
on many of these individuals,

including the blows
to the back of the head,

are all indicative
of a frenzied mob.

It's a stunning example of
ferocious anti-Danish sentiment

that had escalated into
state-sanctioned murder

after Aethelred's decree.

The mass grave is one
of the most significant finds

in Oxford's recent history,

but the full details
of what happened here

may never fully be known
or understood.

Though many questions
remain unanswered,

the discovery could provide
a chilling example

of what happens when
a country's leaders

give its people
a license to kill.

On the banks
of the Vistula River,

in east central Poland,
lies Warsaw,

a city shaped by centuries
of expansion,

invasion, destruction,
and rebirth.

Warsaw's roots trace
back to the 10th century,

but by the late 1200s,
the community shifted north

to a village called Warszawa,
which was protected by a castle.

By the 14th century,
Warsaw had walls, a council,

and the stature
of a growing town.

In the 15th century, it was
crowned the capital of Mazovia,

and soon after,
the capital of Poland itself.

I think what a lot
of people don't realize

is that Warsaw was one of
the world's biggest hubs

for the Jewish people.

By the early 20th century,
Warsaw had grown

to a city of 1.3 million people,

and that included
400,000 Jewish people.

That made it the largest
Jewish community in Europe.

And if you look worldwide,

it was number two
only to New York City.

But after the German
invasion of 1939,

Jews in occupied Poland
were systematically targeted.

They were stripped
of their property,

they were fired from their jobs,

they were forced
to wear armbands,

they were barred from going to
school, going to synagogue,

they were forced into labor,

and they were even forbidden
to walk on certain streets.

In October 1940,

375,000 Jews were forced
into the Warsaw Ghetto,

a district of just
1.3 square miles,

surrounded by a 10-foot wall
topped with barbed wire.

At its height, more than 450,000
people were crammed inside.

And by mid 1942,

more than 80,000 people
had died in the ghetto.

In 2022,
archaeologists working

within the former Warsaw Ghetto
unearthed the first clue

to a far more complex story
waiting underground.

The first thing
they found was a small glass

that had been buried
for 80 years.

Further excavations
uncovered the cellars

of pre-war tenement houses

that once stood between
Mila and Muranowska Streets.

From these basements came
at least 3,000 objects.

Cups, bottles, pans, an iron,

candlesticks, even a handbag;

everyday possessions
of middle class residents.

One of the houses had
a reconstructed cellar,

a concrete room with electrical
and water fittings

and corridors branching out
beneath the rubble.

In another location,
they found religious objects

and everyday items dating
back to the 19th century.

The site was first
identified in 2019

through geophysical surveys,
but later work in 2021,

including a bunch
of techniques--

electrical resistivity
tomography,

ground penetrating radar,
handheld LIDAR--

all of that confirmed

that much of the underground
infrastructure had survived.

These excavated cellars

are the physical remnants of how
people reshaped their world

under impossible conditions.

But how exactly
were these spaces used

and what can they ultimately
tell us about the lives

of those who once
passed through them?

In the Warsaw Ghetto,
resistance took on many forms,

and some evidence
suggests these spaces

served a deeper purpose
in the struggle to endure.

In one of the basements,

a burnt library of Hebrew texts

alongside religious objects
were found.

Handwashing cups,
a Torah pointer,

and fragments of the Talmud.

Finds like these reflect a wider
pattern of spiritual resistance

in the ghetto, where people
fought to preserve belief

and dignity amid
starvation and terror.

So, is it possible this cellar
functioned as a hidden space

for prayer, study,
or cultural activities?

Even under the most
brutal conditions,

Jewish life in the ghetto
persisted.

Children studied
in hidden classrooms,

adults gathered
for secret lectures,

and confiscated books
were quietly recirculated.

In some ghettos, leaders
organized trade schools,

hoping that practical skill
in carpentry, tailoring,

and metalwork might offer
a chance at survival.

By 1940, as many as 600
underground prayer groups

existed in Warsaw.

They gathered in cellars
or in attics

with lookouts
posted at the door.

In these hidden spaces,
prayer served two roles.

It was a way to connect with God
and practice the religion,

but it was also
an act of defiance.

It was a refusal to let the Nazi
regime break their spirit.

Less than
half a mile away,

the post-war discoveries
of a hidden cache

shows how underground spaces
were vital for preserving

Jewish life, culture,
and resistance.

In 1939, historian
and activist Emanuel Ringelblum

began collecting
Jewish testimonies

through his work with
self-aid organizations.

But after the Warsaw Ghetto
was sealed in November 1940,

his efforts expanded into a
wide-reaching organized network.

The archivists gathered
things like diaries,

testimonies, underground
newspapers, ration cards,

tram tickets, and even menus
from ghetto cabarets.

Together, these fragments
created a vivid portrait

of daily life under Nazi rule.

Refugees arriving in Warsaw
added reports

from across occupied Poland,

making the collection one
of the most detailed records

of Jewish life
during the Holocaust.

Determined
to preserve the truth

for future generations,

the group took great risk
to bury the archive.

And when it was recovered
after the war,

they had preserved
some 35,000 documents.

It remains one of the most
important testimonies

of the Holocaust.

The Ringelblum Archive
shows how underground spaces

could preserve culture
and belief.

But in the cellars
uncovered in 2022,

the evidence is less clear.

The artifacts hint
at prayer or study,

but as conditions
in the ghetto deteriorated,

they probably served
a more basic function.

In the Warsaw Ghetto,
hidden passageways and spaces

kept goods, information,
and people moving,

leading some to suspect
that these cellars

played a more material role
in the struggle to survive.

Excavations at
the site revealed a cellar

altered from its original design
with concrete block walls

and a reinforced ceiling,

along with traces of pipes
and an electric cable.

Given the extent
of these modifications,

could this space have been part
of the smuggling

and communication networks
that sustained daily life

inside the ghetto?

From that room,
a corridor extended west

and then south,
linking multiple cellars.

These connections formed
a concealed route

that would have allowed
multiple people

and perhaps goods to move
discreetly within the ghetto.

Couriers were a lifeline
between Jewish communities.

Many were young women
from youth movements

who maintained underground
networks across occupied Poland.

They traveled under false names
with forged papers,

carrying mail,
newspapers, money,

and information
into the ghettos.

They also smuggled in weapons,
guns, grenades, and ammunition

hidden in food parcels
or on their bodies.

Roughly
170 miles southwest

at Auschwitz-Birkenau,

a similar kind of network
became the foundation

for one of the Holocaust's
most daring revolts.

Róza Robota was a
member of the Jewish Underground

assigned to a clothing detail

where the belongings of
murdered Jews were sorted.

Her unit operated
beside Crematorium 4.

That's the area where
the Sonderkommando Jews worked.

That's the name
given by the Nazis

to a group of Jewish prisoners
who were forced to participate

in the extermination process--
removing bodies, cutting hair,

searching for hidden values,
and running the crematoria,

all while knowing that they,
too, were soon going to be

lying among those bodies.

In the spring of 1944,

the underground turned
to Róza Robota for help

smuggling explosives
from a munitions factory.

She enlisted three
young Jewish women

who worked in
the gunpowder section.

They hid small amounts
in matchboxes,

scraps of cloth or paper,
and on their bodies.

Over time, nearly 20 others
joined the effort.

Robota passed the
powder to the Sonderkommando,

and they secretly
stockpiled enough of it

to build crude grenades from
food tins packed with nails,

stones, and glass, sealed with
plaster and makeshift fuses.

On October 7, 1944,

the Sonderkommando
launched a revolt.

Their explosives
killed several guards

and destroyed parts
of the crematorium

and the adjacent gas chambers.

In the reprisals that followed,

around 450 prisoners
were executed.

Smuggling networks
that supplied groups

like the Sonderkommando

showed us how crucial
secret supply lines were

to Jewish resistance, both
in the ghettos and in the camps.

We know that one of the
excavated cellars was first used

by smugglers to store goods,

but as German control
intensified

and anger swelled in the ghetto,

these same underground spaces
took on new and shifting roles.

On April 19, 1943,

around 750 members of two
Jewish resistance groups

fought German forces with
smuggled guns, grenades,

and homemade petrol bombs

in what became known as
the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

The corridors
found in the cellars

lead toward what is now
Anielewicz Mound.

That's a place named
for Mordechai Anielewicz,

who was the commander of
the Jewish Combat Organization

who led
the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

People's testimonies state
that up to 300 people

sheltered in a bunker
on Mila Street,

spread across several properties

between Mila and the now
vanished Muranowska Street--

that's a street that
the Germans destroyed

during the 1943 uprising.

So is it possible
that these basements

are surviving traces
of that stronghold?

Months before the uprising,

when German troops entered
the ghetto in January 1943

to round up deportees,

members of the Jewish Combat
Organization under Anielewicz

launched a sudden attack.

Most were killed,

but their resistance disrupted
deportation orders,

which were essentially
death sentences,

and gave thousands
a chance to scatter.

In the wake of the incident,
survivors dug new bunkers

determined to be ready
for the next time.

That's when the Jewish
Combat Organization moved

its headquarters
to 18 Mila Street,

a smuggler-owned bunker
with six rooms, six exits,

hatches, and
a ventilation system.

This bunker became key to
the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising

beginning in April.

But on the 8th of May,
Nazis discovered the bunker.

They spread gas inside
and circled the exits,

prompting many to take their own
lives instead of surrendering.

In the end,
families suffocated or burned

in the very bunkers
built to protect them.

Thousands were killed
in the ghetto,

and thousands more were
deported to Treblinka.

Yet the uprising's legacy
reached far beyond

its immediate defeat.

It showed that even with
almost no hope of survival,

resistance could still be
an act of dignity,

a refusal to let
the oppressor decide

the terms of life and death.

The full extent
of Anielewicz's Bunker

has yet to be uncovered.

But the cellars on Mila Street
reveal how ordinary basements

were reshaped in crisis

to become spaces of resistance,
refuge, and survival.

Southeast of
mainland France, Corsica rises

as the Mediterranean's
fourth largest island--

a rugged crossroads between
France, Italy, and Sardinia.

Corsica's recorded
history begins around 560 BCE

when Greeks founded Alalia
on the east coast.

Carthaginian rule followed
in the early 3rd century BCE

until Rome conquered the island

in a series of campaigns
between 259 and 163 BCE.

From the mid 6th century CE,

the island fell under
Byzantine influence

and then papal rule
in the 8th century.

In 1077, the papacy
granted the Bishop of Pisa

authority over Corsica,
and as a result,

more than 300 churches were
constructed on the island

in the following two centuries.

In the Middle Ages,

Corsica and Sardinia
lay between rival powers.

A papal bid to unite them
under Aragon failed,

and by the 16th century,
Genoa controlled Corsica.

In 1768, Genoa surrendered
the island to France,

and within a year,
French forces secured it.

That same year, 1769,

Napoleon Bonaparte was born
in Corsica's capital, Ajaccio,

a moment that tied
Corsica's turbulent story

to the fate of Europe itself.

In 2021,
archaeologists working

in the center of Ile-Rousse

uncover something extraordinary
beneath the modern streets.

They found a necropolis
of more than 40 graves

spanning between
the 3rd and 6th century CE.

That basically spans
the ultimate decline

of the western Roman Empire.

We've identified three
main types of graves.

Some are simple,
rectangular cut pits

where the dead are laid to rest
and covered with earth.

Others reuse fragments
of roof tiles arranged

to form sort of
a rough enclosure.

But the third type is the most
distinctive of all:

burials inside amphorae.

Now, amphorae are jars that
are used to transport wine

and olive oil and brine
and stuff like that.

But here they're
used for burials.

In one case, two vessels
were even fitted together

to hold a single individual.

Jar burials appear
across the Mediterranean,

but the Ile-Rousse necropolis
breaks the mold.

Unlike the more common
child amphora burials,

adults were interred
in these jars.

Corsica in
late antiquity was shaped

by shifting empires and
powerful trade routes.

At Ile-Rousse, the origins
of imported amphorae

raised questions about
who these people were

and where they may
have came from.

From the 4th
to 7th centuries,

Corsica imported wine, oil,
and brine in amphorae,

shipped from Carthage
or present-day Tunisia.

Finding those same containers
reused for burials

suggests a direct link
to North Africa

and the powers that ruled there.

It's possible there's
a connection to the Vandals,

a Germanic people who captured
Carthage in 439 CE,

the richest city
of Roman North Africa.

From that new capital,
they built a maritime empire

spanning the western
Mediterranean

and secured
the island of Corsica

as part of their conquest
of Roman-ruled islands.

Given this, maybe the dead
at Ile-Rousse were settlers

or officials tied
to Vandal rule.

It's possible,
but archaeological evidence

for Vandal burials is limited,

and it's regionally
inconsistent.

So it's difficult to draw
any firm connection

to the amphora burials
in Corsica.

The austerity
of these burials may point

to a community under pressure,

where necessity shaped how
the dead were laid to rest.

In times of epidemic
or sudden mass mortality,

communities came under
immense pressure,

often forcing changes to
established burial customs.

Amphorae may have offered
a quick solution

if deaths came too fast
for formal rights.

Could some of the unusual
interments on Corsica

reflect emergency burials

improvised in the face
of a catastrophe?

In the mid 6th century,

plague swept across
the Mediterranean and Europe.

Beginning in Egypt and reaching

Constantinople in 542 CE,

it returned in waves for
more than two centuries,

killing millions.

In the imperial capital,
cemeteries overflowed,

so mass pits and trenches were
dug, and when even those filled,

bodies were stacked in towers
or cast into the sea.

But what we see
at Ile-Rousse

is nothing like the chaos
of a plague pit.

The graves are
generally laid out

in an orderly
east-west orientation,

and while certain
plague cemeteries

display careful alignment and
adherence to Christian norms,

burial responses
to mass death vary;

meaning the use of amphorae
in Corsica

may point to a very different
logic altogether.

Beyond the amphorae,
the use of salvaged materials

in some burials may offer
the clearest clues

to the cemetery's character.

At Ile-Rousse,
some graves were framed

with broken roof tiles,

sometimes mixed
with amphora sherds--

a layout reminiscent
of building tombs

where reused tiles formed
a simple casing around the body.

But here, the construction
is far more rudimentary

using low-quality terracotta,

kind of salvaged from
ruined buildings nearby.

So you kind of get
the impression

that this was
an imperfect solution,

kind of making do
with what was available.

In Corsica,
the North African amphora

found at the site were among the
island's most common imports.

But once they served
their original purpose,

they were simply reused.

Vessels were broken apart,

sections cut and refitted
into a type of coffin.

Rather than discard what trade
had made plentiful,

the community seemingly
turned everyday containers

into material for burial.

Nearly 400 miles east
on the Croatian island of Hvar,

excavations in a town
of the same name

uncovered a late
antique necropolis

from the late 4th
to early 5th century CE.

In an area covering
just 700 square feet,

archaeologists
documented 20 graves

holding the skeletal remains
of 32 people.

Burials at the site range
from simple earthenware

and amphora graves
to tile-lined tombs,

along with a single masonry tomb
holding 12 skeletons,

a striking parallel to the mixed
forms seen at Ile-Rousse.

The finds at Hvar

show how 4th and 5th century
communities

used amphora and roof tiles
in burials,

combining everyday materials
in ways that reflect

local adaptation
in funerary practice.

They also reveal new insights
into ceramic production

and trade networks
through imported wares,

some of which are the first
documented in the Adriatic.

This reflects a broader
Mediterranean practice

known as enchytrismos:

burying people inside
terracotta containers.

That was common from
the 3rd century onward,

particularly in coastal towns

where there were a lot
of terracotta jars,

but by the 5th century, it was
very common for child burials

to be done this way
in early Christian cemeteries.

That's what makes
Ile-Rousse so interesting.

You have adults and infants
buried together,

and so far,
not a single grave good.

It's a departure from
the familiar pattern

that could reflect nothing more
than pragmatic reuse

of abundant containers.

Or it may signal beliefs
about life and death

that remain beyond our reach.

The necropolis at
Ile-Rousse is one of the few

anchors of this region's
ancient past.

It preserves a vital record
and just as clearly shows

how partial the story
here remains.