Eighty‑five years after the Battle of Britain, a forgotten chapter of home‑front ingenuity is emerging from the Somerset hills. Near the village of Black Down, a meticulously crafted replica of Bristol was built to draw German bombers away from the real city, its factories and its civilians. Using film‑studio trickery, improvised explosives and the bravery of Home Guard and RAF personnel, the decoy succeeded in diverting a significant portion of the Luftwaffe’s ordnance, an effort now credited with saving thousands of lives.
The Secret Mirage
On the rugged slopes of the Mendips, engineers and labourers laid out a street plan that mirrored Bristol’s Temple Meads railway station, the bustling Avonmouth Docks and a network of roads that would look familiar from the air. The aim was simple yet audacious: convince enemy pilots that they had already hit their target and prompt them to unload their bombs on empty countryside instead of on vital war‑production sites.
How the Illusion Worked
To make the fake city convincing, the project called on the expertise of Shepperton Film Studios – now part of Pinewood – which supplied flickering lights, towering flames and simulated gunfire. Cow troughs were filled with fuel and set alight to mimic burning buildings, while a toilet cistern was rigged to flush water into the flames, causing them to flare higher on cue. Lights were switched on and off in patterns that imitated locomotives misfiring, traffic signals changing and civilians hurrying through streets.
A short distance from the main site, concrete platforms held primitive “Z‑gun” launchers. Constructed from drainage pipes, these devices fired flares that resembled anti‑aircraft bursts, further convincing bomber crews that they were encountering fierce resistance.
The People Behind the Lights
Operation of the decoy fell to a mixed crew of Home Guard volunteers, billeted in a former village school, and RAF servicemen lodged on nearby farms. When telephone reports warned of an approaching bomber wave, they would rush to the bunkers, ignite the effects and keep the illusion alive throughout the night.
Historian Mike Harvey, who leads guided walks to the site, described the experience as “hell on earth”. He noted that the men worked in darkness, aware that a bomb could strike their concealed position at any moment. Their courage was supported by local traders and farmhouse wives, who supplied materials and kept the secrecy intact.
Three brick‑built bunkers once housed the generators and control rooms. Today only one remains, partially buried under vegetation, its interior still containing the original generator space and the command chamber where the decoy was orchestrated.
Legacy and Remembrance
The Black Down site forms part of a wider network of “Starfish” locations scattered around Britain’s key industrial centres. Around Bristol alone, a dozen such decoys were established, though few traces survive elsewhere. Colonel John Turner, a Royal Engineer chosen by Winston Churchill, oversaw the programme.
According to Harvey’s research, between five and ten percent of the 1,700 tonnes of bombs dropped on the United Kingdom during the Second World War landed on these false targets. That diversion is estimated to have spared roughly 5,000 lives and preserved vital wartime output.
The Bristol Blitz itself claimed almost 1,300 civilian lives. Nearby decoys bore the brunt of the assault: the Chew Magna site absorbed 54 high‑explosive bombs on 3 June 1941, while Uphill, close to Weston‑super‑Mare, took 42 bombs a night later. During one of those raids, Aircraftman 2nd Class Cecil Bright crawled out to relight failing decoy lamps with matches, an act that later earned him a military medal.
The story was first brought to light by Donald Brown, a local schoolteacher who researched the site, wrote a book and ran his own tours. After his passing, Mike Harvey inherited the mantle, and interest has surged. A recent Mendip Society‑led walk sold out all twenty places, attracting both young and old eager to hear the testimonies of those who risked everything for a phantom city.
Why it Matters
The Black Down decoy is more than a curious footnote in military history; it is a testament to the ingenuity and collective sacrifice of ordinary Britons during their darkest hour. By turning countryside into a convincing illusion of devastation, civilians and servicemen alike bought precious time for factories to keep turning out munitions, for ships to sail and for communities to endure. Remembering their quiet bravery reminds us that victory often hinges not only on frontline heroism but also on the unseen efforts of those who laboured in shadows to protect the homeland. Their legacy endures in the gently rolling Somerset landscape, where the echoes of phantom sirens still whisper a lesson in resilience, creativity and the power of community‑driven defence.