There was a slight mist. At dawn heavy fire broke out and a message came through that H12 was lost. Almost at the same moment looking away to the right one saw what appeared to be the whole of our trench garrisons streaming back in hundreds to the old front line under heavy MG fire.
It was a most extraordinary sight and I shall never forget the sound made by troops coming back – a sort of long drawn-out moan.
An officer of the HQ with us (I am not sure whether it was the Essex or the Borders) ran out towards Nine Tree Copse to rally these troops. They must have rallied quickly as we got in touch with the Essex later in the morning. The Turks took no advantage of this momentary panic.
That they did not do so was almost certainly, in part, due to the Hampshires’ young acting CO. Having outflanked the KOSBs’ positions on the left of the salient, the Turks burst through the 1st Essex line and, as the survivors fell back on the H11 trench, the men in the second line broke, threatening to unhinge the entire 88th Brigade defence system. The Hampshires’ history states:
A disorganised mass of men was being pressed back against the Royal Fusiliers’ left, where crowded and narrow trenches impeded any reorganisation of the defence. The situation was becoming critical, officerless men were retreating in confusion when Second Lieutenant G.R.D. Moor … dashed across the open from the Hampshires’ lines with a few men and stemmed the retirement by vigorous and forcible measures, actually shooting one or two panic-stricken fugitives. He did not stop here: having rallied and reorganised the men in a hollow, he led them back to the lost trench and cleared the Turks out, setting a magnificent example of bravery and resourcefulness …
Details of this action, and, in particular, the ruthless methods employed by the young officer to turn back the fleeing troops, are sketchy. Dallas Moor appears to have left no record of the most dramatic event of his young life. Lt. Gen. Sir Beauvoir de Lisle, who had arrived on the peninsula two days earlier to take command of the 29th Division, later stated that Moor ‘had to shoot the leading four men, and the remainder came to their senses’. He called it a ‘very remarkable performance’ and described the young subaltern as ‘one of the bravest men I have met in this war’.
With so little evidence to hand, any judgement, even with the benefit of hindsight, appears worthless. But balanced against the desperate measures taken by Moor is the certainty that a disorderly rout of the kind which threatened to overtake the British line would unquestionably have resulted in far higher casualties among the retreating troops.
His subsequent counter-attack, no mean feat in itself considering the shock of the initial panic, dislodged the Turks from their slender hold on the H11 line. The H12 salient, however, remained in Turkish hands. Another attack at about 6.00 p.m. was repulsed with heavy losses.
‘That evening’, wrote the Hampshires’ historian, ‘Second Lieutenant Moor had to be taken to Brigade Headquarters, being completely exhausted’. Moor’s role in the battle prompted a congratulatory message from the commanding officer of the 88th Brigade. However, his actions may otherwise have gone unrewarded but for the action of officers from the neighbouring unit, the 2nd Royal Fusiliers. It was they who, having witnessed his desperate efforts to prevent a catastrophe, recommended him for the Victoria Cross.
Moor had been under almost continuous fire for eleven hours, and it was a further fourteen hours before he recovered from the state of collapse brought on by the strain of carrying out his CO’s orders to hold his position. Shortly afterwards, the young officer was evacuated to hospital in Malta, suffering from ‘exhaustion’. On 24 July the London Gazette announced the award of the Victoria Cross to 2nd Lt. Moor. The citation read:
For most conspicuous bravery and resource on the 5th June, 1915 [sic], during operations south of Krithia, Dardanelles. When a detachment of a battalion on his left, which had lost all its officers, was rapidly retiring before a heavy Turkish attack, Second Lieutenant Moor, immediately grasping the danger to the remainder of the line, dashed back some 200 yards, stemmed the retirement, led back the men and recaptured the lost trench.
This young officer, who only joined the Army in October, 1914, by his personal bravery and presence of mind saved a dangerous situation.
The reason for the erroneous date is unclear. Perhaps an early draft of the recommendation was wrongly dated and the mistake repeated. More understandable was the official reticence over the methods used to stop the troops ‘rapidly retiring’.
By August 1915 the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force’s youngest VC was back serving with his unit in trenches close to the scene of his gallant action. On 6 August the 2nd Hampshires took part in a diversionary attack in which the H12a, H12 and H13 network of trenches west of the Krithia Nullah were once again the objective. Moor was, fortunately as it transpired, one of the officers ‘left out of battle’. The operation was an unmitigated disaster for the Hampshires. More than 240 officers and men were killed for no gains. A further 210 were wounded and Moor was one of only four officers left in the battalion. Despite the appalling losses, which once again left him in temporary command of the battalion, his morale does not appear to have flagged. Maj. John Gillam, who visited the Hampshires in their trenches ten days after the ill-fated attack, noted in his diary how he had been taken to one of the forward positions by ‘a cheery young man named Moore [sic], who has recently won the VC’.
Moor stayed with his battalion for another month before suffering a severe bout of dysentery which resulted in him being evacuated on 15 September.
He was invalided to England and spent some time in a London hospital before receiving his VC from George V at Buckingham Palace on 18 October. Shortly afterwards, he visited his mother in Braunton, north Devon, where the local citizens had prepared a special welcome. The North Devon Journal reported: ‘As Lieut Moor and his mother walked from the platform to the waiting motor car … the large crowd gave three hearty cheers, with an additional cheer for Mrs Moor. Lieut Moor, in acknowledgement, rose from his seat in the car and saluted.’
His poor health, however, was painfully apparent. The newspaper noted: ‘Lieut Moor, who was looking pale and was evidently very weak, briefly replied that he was very glad to be home.’ Later, the young officer was presented with an illuminated address by the chairman of Braunton Parish Council. The address, read out to loud applause, concluded: ‘We wish you God-speed and further success in whatever duties you may be called upon to perform in the future.’ Lt. Moor, perhaps overawed by the scale of his welcome or suffering from the effects of his illness, simply replied with a single sentence of thanks.
George Raymond Dallas Moor was born on 22 October 1896, at his mother’s sister’s home in Pollington Street, St Kilda, Australia, the second son of William Henry Moor, a senior official in the Ceylon Civil Service, and Ella Helen Moor (née Pender).
It appears he was set to follow in the family tradition of colonial service. His father was an auditor general of the Transvaal and an uncle, Sir Ralph Moor, achieved distinction in Southern Nigeria.
Privately educated at Little Appleby, Ryde, on the Isle of Wight, Dallas Moor attended Cheltenham College from September 1910. His original application form, dated 12 November 1909, gave as his intended profession the Egyptian Civil Service.
With his father occupying a key post in Pretoria, Moor became a member of Cheltenham College’s Boyne House, where he was noted more for his sporting prowess than his scholarship. His education ended abruptly with the outbreak of war during the summer of 1914, a year of upheaval domestically as well as on the international front. Moor’s mother had filed for a ‘judicial separation on the grounds of adultery’ and had been granted custody of her three children. According to her solicitor, she ‘always had the children with her’ and paid for the education of Dallas ‘out of her allowance’. A further legal note, written a year later, suggests a far from happy father-son relationship. ‘The father,’ it stated, ‘has never interested himself in the Boy …’
Dallas, however, wa
s about to strike out on his own. On 18 September, and still aged only seventeen, he enlisted at Barnstaple into the Public Schools Battalion, officially styled the 21st (Service) Battalion, the Royal Fusiliers. His spell in the ranks (private, No 4156) lasted less than 40 days. On 27 October, five days after his 18th birthday, he was commissioned into the 3rd Battalion, the Hampshire Regiment, his father’s old unit. He was in the prime of life. At 5ft 11ins tall, he weighed 147lbs, possessed a fresh complexion and impressed the medical officer with what he called his ‘very good physical development’.
As 2nd Lt. Moor he joined the 2nd Hampshires as the unit was preparing to embark for the Dardanelles where he survived the initial landings only to be wounded on 28 April, during the advance from the Helles beachhead. For his services at Gallipoli, the young subaltern was given a commission in the Regular Army, dated 1 August.
Following his evacuation from the peninsula, Moor spent months at home in England recuperating. The toll taken of his health may be gauged by a report written by his GP while staying with his mother at Braunton. Dated 4 December, 1915, it states:
Lt. Dallas Moor has been under my care suffering from dysentery with jaundice. Jaundice now improving but as yet he has no solid motion and does not gain in weight and probably will not until fluid motions cease. There is considerable nervous exhaustion. He is quite tired out after walking one mile. Reflexes are exaggerated and fields of vision contracted. I should suggest further complete mental rest and abundance of fresh air.
The authorities evidently took note and Moor’s sick leave was extended until 8 February 1916, when he joined the 3rd Hampshires at Gosport. It was not until the autumn that he was deemed fit enough for frontline service. On 3 October, he joined the 1st Hampshires in time for the closing actions of the Somme offensive. He remained with them until 23 December 1917, when he was severely wounded in the arm and evacuated once more.
The following month a medical board ruled that it would be at least four months before he was fit enough for even category C duties. A spell of convalescence was recommended and it was on 26 January, while in Lady Ridley’s Hospital, that he received a message saying he was required as aide-de-camp to Brigadier Seely, then commanding the Canadian Cavalry Brigade in France. Such was the speed of his recovery, he was deemed fit for duty on 22 February, but although still wanted by Seely he was, instead, given three weeks leave and told to await orders. In the event, his next posting was not to the Canadian Cavalry Brigade but to the staff of the 30th Division, where his former CO from Gallipoli, now Maj.-Gen. Williams CB, CMG, DSO, was commanding.
Williams, who had not forgotten his young subaltern’s powers of leadership on the battlefield two years earlier, had tried in vain to have Moor posted to his staff when he took command of the division in April 1917. He later stated:
My first thought was for young Moor. I wrote to his Battalion commander asking for him, saying that ‘the boy has been at it so long he must want a rest’. His CO wrote back that he could not spare him.
Early in 1918 I heard from him that he was wounded and in England, and though he could not get passed fit he could come to me as ADC. He joined me on March 20th, 1918, during our retreat before the German main attack [sic].
Moor, who had still not yet recovered the full use of his arm, was given the rank of acting general staff officer, grade three (GSO 3) and he quickly adapted to his new role. Williams wrote: ‘This officer has a positive contempt for danger, and distinguishes himself on every occasion.’ Not for him a safe billet well behind the lines. Williams stated: ‘In the open fighting of the last few weeks of the war he was invaluable, day after day reconnoitring well out in front of our most advanced troops.’ During the pursuit of the Germans towards the River Scheldt in October 1918, Moor had two narrow escapes from death. Philip Neame, himself a VC holder, who was then serving as GSO I of 30th Division, was with Moor when they rode out with the advance guard. He later wrote:
We had dismounted and handed our horses to our orderlies while I looked with my field-glass, when I heard the ominous roar of a heavy shell coming through the air. By experience I knew that it was a 5.9 inch howitzer shell, and that it was coming very close. There was no cover at all, so we just stood there. The shell landed with a thud within three yards of our feet: by good fortune it was a dud. Another day Moor and I were walking down a lane with the CRA, Brigadier-General F.F. Lambarde CMG, DSO, when a German field-gun battery bracketed us with two salvoes. Moor and I, as I thought sensibly this time, made to get into the ditch, where there was good cover. Lambarde frightened us by walking straight down the middle of the road without batting an eyelid, and for very shame we went too, while the shells kept on coming, but behind us.
Moor’s repeated acts of gallantry were recognised by the awards of a Military Cross and Bar which were both gazetted in the space of ten weeks. The citation for his MC, published on 2 December 1918, stated: ‘For conspicuous gallantry and skill. He carried out a daylight reconnaissance all along the divisional front in face of heavy machine-gun fire at close range, in many places well in front of our foremost posts.’
Tragically, however, Moor did not live long enough to receive either award. During the war’s closing days, he fell victim to the influenza pandemic sweeping through Europe. His health fatally strained by sickness and wounds, he succumbed to flu and pneumonia on 3 November 1918, in No 3 Canadian Clearing Station, Mouveaux, in France. He was just twenty-two.
Lt. Dallas Moor VC, MC and Bar is one of forty-six names recorded on the roll of honour inside Braunton’s thirteenth-century church. The village’s war dead are also commemorated in the church’s Lady chapel. At the nearby museum, a short walk away from St Berwyns, the house where his mother lived, the exhibits include a copy of the illuminated address presented to the young VC winner by the people of Braunton. Among the museum archives is a brief note stating: ‘Lt Moor’s regiment presented the village of Braunton with a field gun which stood in the park for some years.’ According to villagers, the gun remained on display until it rusted away!
In 1961 Dallas Moor’s elder brother, Cdr. W. Sylvester Moor RN, a former champion lightweight boxer who had served throughout the First World War, wrote to the Hampshire Regiment: ‘I now hold my brother Dallas’ Victoria Cross, and as I have no Blood Relations left, would like to present it to the Regiment.’
Today the Cross is displayed at the regimental museum in Winchester in memory of the youngest Army officer VC of the war, who was described by his former chief, Maj.-Gen. Williams, as ‘a fine character and as fearless a soldier as ever lived’.
H. JAMES
Near Gully Ravine, Helles sector, 28 June and 2 July 1915
2nd Lt. H. James
At 11.00 a.m. on 28 June, following a short bombardment, British troops rose from their trenches on both sides of Gully Ravine and surged towards the Turkish lines. The attack, which was intended to emulate the French success at Kereves Dere a week before, was limited to clearly defined objectives and at first all appeared to go well.
On the left, the men of the 29th Division, supported by the Indian Brigade, made swift gains, their progress across five lines of trenches on Gully Spur being marked by the sun glittering on triangles of metal sewn on the men’s tunics to aid artillery observers. But on the right, where the untested Scots of the 156th Brigade, from the 52nd Lowland Division, were assigned the task of capturing two lines of trenches on Fir Tree Spur, known as H12a and H12, the story was a depressingly familiar one. The war diary of the 4th Worcestershires, a support unit, reported: ‘11.00 a.m. The first troops to move to the attack have started and appear to do very well. For some reason or other the 8th Scottish Rifles have retired… .’ The reason was simple enough. The Turks in trenches, scarcely touched by a preliminary bombardment devoid of HE shells, had slaughtered the attacking battalions as soon as they crested a slight rise separating the two lines. In the space of five minutes twenty-five out of twenty-six officers and 448 men of the 8th Scottish Rifles were kil
led or wounded. The unit’s losses were greater than those sustained by any of the assault battalions on the first day of the Somme. The saps leading out into no-man’s-land were choked with dead and wounded. Yet still the attack went on. Not realizing the full extent of the 156th Brigade’s repulse, General de Lisle (GOC, 29th Division) signalled: ‘H12 is to be taken at all costs, if necessary you will send forward your reserve battalion.’
In a display of courage bordering on desperation, the 7th Scottish Rifles leapt out of their trenches and charged through a storm of fire to capture a section of the H12a line. A barrier, later known as Southern Barricade, was erected and a series of bombing attacks beaten off. Another small party seized a stretch of the H12 trench on the left, where a block was flung up, to be known as the Northern Barricade. But the two lines facing the shattered 8th Scottish Rifles remained firmly in Turkish hands. A renewed attempt to take them resulted only in more casualties, among them Brig. Gen. William Scott-Moncrieff, who was killed at the head of Sap No. 29 leading his last reserves into action.
VCs of the First World War Gallipoli Page 17
