The ruins of the great city of Hatoosha are an awe-inspiring sight.

They sit right in the centre of modern Turkey on a rocky outcrop overlooking a bend in the

Kizalirmak River.

Hatoosha's crumbling walls of grey limestone stand out against the tawny yellow grassland

of the hills, lying where they fell over 3,000 years ago.

One look will tell you that Hatoosha was once a mighty fortress.

Its double wall was defended by over a hundred towers, its thick gateways decorated with carved

sculptures of lions.

For centuries this was the capital of the mighty Hittite Empire, which ruled a large portion

of Turkey during the Bronze Age.

Hatoosha's people cultivated wheat, barley and lentils, and wore clothes spun from the

wool of sheep they kept in the surrounding hills.

But if you dig down into the ruins of Hatoosha, what you find is a thin black layer right

above the city's ancient floors.

This layer is made up of ash, charred wood and rubble scorched in a fierce fire.

It dates back to the end of the 13th century BC, around the year 1200 before the start

of the Christian calendar.

And when you step back and take in all the details, it's a little breath-taking.

Walls and roofs collapsed, bricks shattered and melted, and it's clear that whatever happened

to Hatoosha, the destruction was savage, unrelenting and total.

After that, the archaeological record here ends.

Except for the signs of a few scattered scavengers eking out an existence among the rubble, the

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