A decorated World War II veteran, a Bluffton firefighter and two Beaufort County deputies share the moments that tested their courage and changed lives forever.

Story by Barry Kaufman
Photography by Lisa Staff

Mark Twain famously said that bravery is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. It’s the ultimate act of humanity — drawing on a reserve of strength you didn’t know you had in the face of overwhelming dread. Each of us likes to imagine that when the time comes for our own act of heroism, we’ll have the fortitude to respond with bravery.

These locals don’t need to imagine that situation. They lived it. Each faced the ultimate test, with death just one wrong move away, and
came through to the other side on the strength of their own courage alone. Each found their lives changed in different ways by the challenges they faced. But each can say without doubt that in their darkest moments, their bravery never faltered.

Ralph Feuerman

This World War II hero never saw himself as brave, despite extraordinary acts of valor.

If you weren’t told that Ralph Feuerman was 101 years old, you would get no indication of his centenarian status by simply talking to him. As spry as men half his age, he shares stories about the colorful paintings that now hang on the walls of his Hilton Head Plantation home, and he is seeming entirely unencumbered by his advancing age.

If anything betrays his 101 years, it’s the softening that makes its way around his face as he talks about his time in World War II. In those moments the 80 years since he was just some kid being shipped away to war are laid out plain to see.

“I was brought up at Rockaway Beach a block from the ocean. I graduated high school in June and was already in the Army by August,” he said. “It was my first time away from home, so I was ill-equipped, but I learned very fast. I was a kid, and 17 weeks later I was shipped out and landed in Casablanca.”

As the D-Day invasion had yet to clear an easy path for incoming Allied troops to land in Europe, Feuerman joined his fellow conscripts on a 40 & 8 boxcar that wound its way around northern Africa and entered through southern Italy.

“There I joined my division, which was a Texas National Guard division called the 36th Infantry Division,” he said. “They put a bunch of us New York, Ohio and Pennsylvania kids in with these battle-hardened Texans, and that was scarier than anything.”

Or so he thought at the time. Immediately he discovered the terrors of war, from the Battle of Monte Cassino to foxholes on the beach at Anzio, with mortar fire raining down around him. He stepped foot in Rome on the day it was liberated by the Allies, later entering France to witness the immense toll the war had taken on both country and people.

In the Vosges mountains of France, he discovered exactly what war had made him capable of. Pinned down in their foxholes by a German force atop a nearby hillside, the order came down to take the hill. No sooner did they begin their assault than Private First Class Feuerman found himself without commanding officers, facing certain doom on all sides.

“We couldn’t go back, and we couldn’t go forward. The lieutenant was wounded, and I don’t know where the first sergeant was, but there was shrapnel raining down from the trees,” he said. “I just jumped up and remember saying, ‘Guys, we’re going to die here.’ And I ran ahead because there was no running back. I don’t know what possessed me.”

That moment is one of the last that he remembers from that battle, as it quickly became lost in the fog of what was then called “battle fatigue” but is now referred to as PTSD. In fact, it came as a surprise to him when he received a note from his captain saying he was to be awarded the Silver Star for his actions in the Vosges.

“I don’t think I’d call it bravery. I think I was trained to do certain things,” he said. “I’d witnessed a lot of death. My best buddy was killed next to me. So at that time, it was the easiest thing to do.”

Even now, more than eight decades later, Feuerman still refuses to call what he did bravery. But history — and the Silver Star hanging beside a lifetime of memories — tells a different story.

Silver Star

While working as an orderly in Worms, Germany, as the war wound down, Ralph Feuerman received the following letter:

Under the provisions of Army Regulations 600-45 you are awarded a Silver Star for Gallantry in Action, RALPH B FEUERMAN, 32992922 Company L, 141st Infantry Regiment, for gallantry in action on 19 October 1944 in France.

The second platoon was assigned the mission of leading an attack against a well-defended enemy hill. The initial objective was a strong point consisting of two machine guns protected by riflemen. As the attack advanced across the open stretch of terrain in front of the hostile positions, the platoon leader was wounded by small-arms fire.

Acting entirely on his own initiative, Private First Class Feuerman assumed command of the platoon and by skillful maneuvering forced the enemy soldiers from their positions. Swiftly reorganizing the platoon, he courageously led his men in the face of direct fire to the hill and directed them in capturing several prisoners and securing the objective.

After darkness he took his platoon around the Left Flank and completed the mission by establishing a roadblock. As a result of his fearlessness and aggressive leadership his company was able to occupy the hill. His gallant action reflects great credit upon himself and the Armed Forces of the United States.

Entered the service from Rockaway Beach, New York.

— John E. Dahlquist Major General, U.S. Army

Justin Bowers

This Bluffton firefighter proved courage doesn’t clock out when duty ends.

Sometimes the bravest acts look surprisingly ordinary. Opening your home to a child in need, raising a family through foster care and dedicating your life to protecting others all require a quiet kind of courage few people ever fully understand.

It’s not always being the one who runs toward danger when everyone else is fleeing. But one day not long ago, bravery took on all three of these forms for Justin Bowers. As a foster parent, he was attending a court date in Ridgeland to secure the adoption of his youngest ward. As a firefighter, he possessed training that could guide him through any crisis. And when everyone around him fled, he stepped forward.

“I was just sitting in the courthouse lobby with my wife and my lawyer when everyone came running out screaming, saying the roof had fallen in. I was thinking maybe it was the truss system, but I didn’t hear anything or feel anything shake,” he said. “I went in to make sure everyone was OK, but they were pushing everyone out, telling them to stay away.”

Because he was off duty, taking time out for this can’t-miss court date, he initially complied. But eventually, it was clear the situation called for someone with his training.

“After a couple of minutes, people were still screaming, so I just walked back in,” he said. “And about 20 to 30 feet in the air, there were legs dangling from the drop ceiling. I could see the ceiling cracking underneath them.”

What was left of the panicked courtroom crowd couldn’t figure out a way to get up to the ceiling and check on whoever was in crisis up there. But Bowers, drawing from a mix of instinct and training, spotted an entry behind the judge’s bench that could provide access to the attic.

“I’d never been in this courthouse, so I didn’t know where anything was, but I found this loft space with a ladder going up,” he said. “When I got up there, there was a hallway going down the attic, and I turned a corner to find a guy lying unconscious between the rafters. I could hear the ceiling starting to go.”

Still dressed in his finest court clothes and dress shoes, Bowers sprang over the handrail and grabbed hold of the unconscious man, who had clearly been electrocuted while working on the lights. With the help of a bailiff and a tight grip on the victim’s belt, Bowers was able to position the man across two rafters so he wouldn’t fall through and performed a patient assessment.

“He was responsive to pain, breathing on his own and had a heartbeat, but he was unconscious,” said Bowers.

Paramedics arrived soon after, and the worker made a full recovery, but had it not been for Bowers’ bravery and training, the situation could have ended in tragedy. Instead, it ended with him being awarded the Medal of Valor, Bluffton Township Fire District’s highest honor.

“That’s what you’re trained to do — respond in a situation like this. It’s something that anybody who works here would have done,” he said. “But when I walked back in, I had to tell all the guys, ‘You’re never going to believe this.’”

The quiet bravery of a father

Born and raised in Bluffton, Justin Bowers knew he wanted to be a firefighter as soon as he took his first ride-along as part of the Bluffton Firefighters Explorers Post. But his service to the community doesn’t end when he clocks out from his shift. As foster parents, he and his wife have opened their home to two children they proudly call their own.

“She told me she was signing up to be a foster parent on our very first date. It finally happened about six months into our relationship, and I had already fallen in love at this point,” he said.

A young child was on his way from Columbia to meet his foster parents, and Bowers was excited to give him a home.

“She called me at about 10 at night saying he was on his way, so I went straight to Walmart and bought him a little toy fire truck and a couple of toy motorcycles. I just thought, ‘Let’s see how it goes,’” said Bowers. “That was about five years ago. We just adopted him this past November.”

He was later joined by another young child, whose adoption hearing put Bowers at a Ridgeland courthouse just in time to be a hero and earn a Medal of Valor.

Sgt. Christopher Partridge and Cpl. Christian Anderson

When a high-speed chase turned deadly, these local officers acted without hesitation.

If you were to cast two police officers in a procedural crime TV show, you could do worse than Sgt. Christopher Partridge and Cpl. Christian Anderson. When asked what they enjoy most about law enforcement, each gives an answer that reflects two different perspectives on one of the most important callings a person can answer.

“I enjoy the aspect of taking violent offenders, drug traffickers and wanted individuals off the street who are doing harm to others,” said Partridge.

“It’s enjoyable to be that person who gets to show up and help someone when they’re having the worst day of their life,” said Anderson.

Underneath that chemistry lies a deep well of mutual respect and extensive law enforcement experience. Prior to working together, Partridge had served on the SWAT team for six years and had served on other specialized teams within the agency. Anderson had been a patrol officer and driving instructor. As partners on Beaufort County Sheriff’s Office’s Special Enforcement Unit, their combined experience made them the ideal team.

That was proven undeniably true in November 2023, when their expertise and bravery helped end the threat posed by a violent man in Bluffton. Wanted on felony charges, 34-year-old Anthony Barnhill had already shown that he was not intending to go quietly.

“I was already familiar with him. He’d had a run-in with Bluffton PD not too long before this, and there were allegations that he had brandished a firearm at the officer and threatened his life,” said Partridge.

The two partners had just returned from interdiction training the night before when they learned that Barnhill had fled from officers who had terminated the pursuit. Already familiar with the suspect, they sent Anderson down in an unmarked car while Partridge set up the rest of the operation.

“Because of the potential danger to the public, the goal was to get him on foot. (Sgt. Anderson) called me and said he had eyes on the vehicle while I was trying to get more units in the area,” said Partridge. “No sooner did that happen than the suspect hopped in his car and took off, and that’s where the pursuit started.”

Roaring down Simmonsville Road into oncoming traffic, Barnhill was a threat to public safety. Anderson pursued, urged on by the increasing danger and the suspect’s history of violence.

“We’re not going to chase the wheels off a car for a blown tail light,” he said. “But obviously if there’s a danger to the public, we’re going to go out and get it.”

The chase wove through six miles of Bluffton’s streets, turning onto May River Road and up Buckwalter Parkway, as Partridge and other officers joined the pursuit.

“Thankfully, it wasn’t as busy as I would have expected for a normal Saturday in Bluffton, especially through the neighborhoods,” said Partridge.

As the pursuit made its way through The Farm, with Anderson keeping one eye on the pursuit and one eye on front yards and sidewalks to safeguard the public, he heard shots ring out. Barnhill was making good on his threats. Anderson was forced to end it with the PIT maneuver.

“Our policies are very black and white when it comes to vehicle techniques. You cannot use a PIT maneuver unless deadly force is justified,” he said. “Once he shot at me, it rose to that level. As soon as we got away from the houses, I moved in and pitted him.”

Their bravery resulted in both being awarded the Medal of Valor, but each gives full credit to training.

“Hope isn’t a strategy. When things like this occur, we’re trained to be able to take the action necessary,” said Partridge. “We don’t rise to the occasion as we hope, we rise to whatever your level of training is. And thankfully, we had the training.”

Understanding the PIT maneuver

The Precision Immobilization Technique (PIT) was developed in the late 1980s as a way to bring a pursuit that has reached a dangerous threshold to an end. Essentially, the pursuing vehicle edges its nose into the rear tire of the other vehicle, causing the vehicle’s momentum to abruptly pivot around its center and spin in the opposite direction.

Cpl. Christian Anderson used this technique once he determined that the risks of allowing the pursuit to continue far outweighed the risks associated with causing the other vehicle to likely crash.

“He had shown that he was willing to risk the lives of the public and officers, so we knew we needed to end the pursuit,” he said. “Plus, Sgt. (Adam) Nass from the Bluffton Police Department was standing 100 yards in front of us, about to throw spike strips. Ten seconds before that, the suspect was shooting at me, so I wasn’t going to let him get to Nass.”

The maneuver worked, bringing a chase that had wound through busy streets and neighborhoods to a close, ending a threat to the public.