Nestled in the tranquil woodlands near Bridgetown on Exmoor lies a site that once held a grim secret—a wartime tragedy lost in time. For over 80 years, the peaceful mossy slopes and bird songs masked the wreckage of a Short Stirling bomber and the fate of eight young airmen whose lives were tragically cut short.
On the freezing night of 27 January 1944, Stirling bomber EH933, with call sign ‘A,’ was completing the fourth leg of a nighttime training mission from RAF Swinderby, Lincolnshire. The crew, comprising seven RAF Volunteer Reservists and one Auxiliary Air Force member, were honing their navigational skills under treacherous conditions. Thick cloud cover, gusty winds, and limited visibility challenged the inexperienced pilot, Sgt Ronald Partridge, who had just six hours of night flying experience in the Stirling.
Unknowingly off-course near Winsford, the massive bomber collided with a forested 1,000-foot hill under the cloak of darkness. The crash was instantaneous and devastating. Wreckage scattered across the slope, and all eight crew members perished—six near the fuselage and one, the rear gunner, found in a distant turnip field. Locals heard the roar and felt the impact but were powerless to save them.
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Though decades passed and memories dimmed, Bridgetown’s community quietly kept the tragedy alive. Children played amid remnants of the crash, and a twisted tree at the site stood as an unspoken memorial. The stories endured in whispers from generation to generation.
The hidden history was revived when Bob Brown, great-nephew of airman John Kerry, began researching family history twelve years ago. What began as curiosity led to a profound mission of remembrance. Accessing RAF records and National Archives, Bob diligently reconstructed the lives and service of the crew.
“These were eight men from across the country,” Bob reflected. “One crash connected communities nationwide.”
His research revitalized local interest. Reaching out to the parish council, he found eager collaborators like Councillor David Longley and organizer Mary Lecoyte. Together, the Bridgetown community raised funds and commissioned a memorial stone, which was finally dedicated in 2025, nearly a decade after the project began.
“The community’s enthusiasm was inspiring,” Mary shared. “Younger generations realized this tragedy happened right here, in our own backyard.” Today, visitors along the woodland trail leave flowers and crosses, honoring the airmen’s sacrifice.
For some, the memorial unearthed unexpected personal truths. Julian Slotema, son of navigator Sgt Claude Tomkinson, learned only at 52 that his father’s identity differed due to adoption and DNA discoveries. Attending the dedication was a poignant moment of connection, even if complex emotions linger.
Only two of the crew had children, making family reunions rare. Yet, as Bob noted, “Hearing their stories and seeing their faces made the men more than just names on stone.”
The crew hailed from across Britain: Ronald from Oxford, Claude from Liverpool, Thomas from St Helens, Ben from Huddersfield, Alfred from Coventry, Herbert from Workington, John from Nottingham, and Richard from Berkhamsted.
Their aircraft, the Short Stirling, was the RAF’s first four-engine heavy bomber, introduced in 1936. By 1944, it was largely used for training. Training missions were perilous, with accidents common and the RAF losing over 8,000 personnel during training alone. Though EH933 was not lost to enemy fire, the harsh conditions and inexperience underscored the deadly risks faced by these young men.
The airmen were laid to rest with full military honours across cemeteries stretching from Cumbria to Carmarthenshire, but their legacy remains firmly planted on this Somerset hillside.
At the memorial dedication, Air Commodore Patrick Shea-Simonds spoke solemnly: “Over 80 years later, their sacrifice still resonates. It is our duty and privilege to remember them.”
For families, villagers, and visitors drawn by this silent story, that duty continues to bind past and present.
Exmoor’s serene paths now bear witness to a story once hidden. Though Stirling EH933 fell in silence, its voice echoes clearly through the generations.