Merton Court History

Second Lieutenant Kenneth Hartley Moore

Dan Hill’s research, edited by Ellie Grigsby

In the 18th century, Edward Hasted described Sidcup as ‘a small street of houses, among which is an inn of much resort, and two or three gentlemen’s houses.’ Sidcup is not mentioned in the Domesday book, but its name is probably of Anglo-Saxon origin from two words, ‘sed’ and ‘copp.’ The impact of the railway, which arrived in 1866 changed its fortunes and it began to eclipse what had originally been the more important village of Footscray. By 1914 the population was 8,000, every one of these lives about to change, in many cases, family dynamics to change irretrievably. One of those Sidcup families, was the Moore family, of  ‘Burrow.’ Kenneth Hartley was born in 1896, to be the only child of Mr and Mrs Harold Moore. Once Kenneth had reached his 5th birthday we can ascertain through the 1901 National Consensus that he is still living in Sidcup with his father Harold (professor of music) and his mother Marageret. From this record we can also understand that  Kenneth is known affectionately as simply, Hartley. After receiving his primary education at Merton Court as a ‘day boy,’ Hartley went on to pursue his higher education with Tonbridge school, starting in September 1909. We know through the Tonbridge school archives that Hartley was a gifted academic, winning the second New Judd scholarship of £100, the prize for Latin Elegiacs in 1912/14 and was bracketed with E. Hale for the English literature prize in 1913. In 1914 he was also elected to a leaving exhibition of £30 for classics, and in the autumn,  he won an open classical scholarship at Emmanuel college, Cambridge. He became a school praepostor (like a prefect) in September 1914, and in many other ways played an energetic part in the life of the school, such as gymnastics, debating, and as secretary of the photography society. He left Tonbridge school, at Easter, 1915. Once Hartley reached the tender age of 18: of adulthood, graduating out of education with the luxury of choice that many young men in this generation did not have, ready to tackle the world, a global conflict erupted across the world stage.

Military records regarding Moore, shows that he enlisted as a Private, with the 28th battalion, London regiment (known as the Artists Rifles) sometime around Easter 1915. After training, which was typically around a minimum of three months or so, we can see from Moore’s medal index card that his first theatre of war was France, in which he arrived there on the 11th of August 1915. Exactly four months after his arrival in France, Moore was selected for a commission, but attached to a new regiment, the Dorsetshire (Dorsets). (We do not know when he was appointed to B coy, but on a hand-written table dated March 31st, 1916 we can see he is assigned to this coy of the battalion). Turning to the battalion war diaries we can trace second Lieutenant Moore’s movements on a daily basis as he first served in his role as an officer in the field on December 20th, 1915. We can establish this from the surviving hand drawn table of casualties and reinforcements for 1915 telling us when Moore arrived and that he had previously been at cadet school. Throughout Moore’s first 6 months of service, the battalion war diaries form a fantastic narrative that offers a sophisticated understanding through explanation of the complexities and varieties of physical, emotional, and social experiences trench life offered through demonstrative documentation. From, ‘wet day(s)’ to ‘beautiful weather,’ to having ‘breakfast in a field’ to ‘trenches smashed to a pulp’ to a country looking very pretty,’ ‘marches,’ trench rotation, ‘civilian casualties,’ ‘inspections,’ peaceful life in comfortable billets despite their teeny sizes, distinguished conduct medal awarding, church going, ‘snow,’ ‘heavy shelling,’ well-hidden ‘snipers,’ ‘baths’ behind lines, tiresome ‘training,’ typhoid vaccinations, and over the top ‘attacks,’ Moore really did experience a multitude, if not virtually all, the aspects of trench life.

By the start of June, Kenneth and his comrades in the 6th Dorsets had begun to join the migration of soldiers moving south in the lead up to the impending, deadly, battle of the Somme. Again, in the nominal rolls for the 30th June 1916, we can find confirmation that Moore was still serving in ‘B Coy’ of the 6th Dorsets’. As we turn to the documentation of one day, remembered as the worst day of British military history, forever leaving a stain on her memory, we can understand where Moore and his men were and what they were charged with doing on what was for so many, a devastating, singular day. Like many other battalions, Moore and his men were in a reserve position – held in readiness to exploit the expected and hopeful breakthrough into German territory that morning.  The war diary for the 1st July records the battalion left camp at Ville Sur-Ancre at 05:15am and marched by companies to ‘Meaulte’ arriving there at 06:30am. As the war diarist states it should be a ‘promising morning,’ which by all accounts the military officials hoped it would be, the description of the ‘thickish mist over-all low-lying ground’ is the pathetic fallacy, we recognise today as ominous of what was to come. At Meaulte, the battalion went into billets and breakfast; by 09:00am ‘ the battalion less two companies was ordered up to ‘Sunken road dugouts,’ near ‘recordel.’ The diarist wrote that ‘one’ (of the men) manged to sneak a peek: ‘buried all the morning in a thick red mist of brick-dust thrown up by our shells.’ As Moore and his battalion ate breakfast, thousands of men, just like themselves had been seriously wounded, or killed. On the first day of the Somme, the allied powers took a blow of 60,000; inclusive of nearly 20,000 dead. By 10:00am, the ‘first batch of prisoners passed by’ Moore, his men and the other Coys. The diarist describes them as ‘evil looking.’ Here we are provided with an image of Moore, as he perhaps sat road-side, his legs huddled to his chest as he rested his elbows on his knee caps merely an hour after his breakfast. Staring at the rows of captured Germans, as these battle-weary men, weak and frightened, terrified of what the enemy was to do with them as their dull eyes fixated on the ground as they marched; their psyches’ tormented with what they had just witnessed on the battlefield. Perhaps Moore felt empathy for them, or respect, perhaps even anger or disgust. It is understood that the presence of the enemy in close contact omitted an array of feelings amongst soldiers. The remaining two companies were ordered up from Meaulte at around 11:15am. As ‘everybody felt the extreme heat moving up deep communication trenches with heavy loads without a breath of wind,’ by 16:00pm orders were received that the men were to provide relief for the 7th Yorkshire regiment in the trenches. They had suffered very ‘heavily in their attack’ on ‘Fricourt’ and so it is almost impossible for us to truly appreciate what would have offended Moore’s and the Dorsets’ senses when taking over. The sounds of dying men groaning, the thick mist of smoke from detonated shells clogging their eyes, the smell of burning flesh as hot shrapnel tore men’s faces and bodies, and the wounded being urgently transported on blood stained stretchers as the feet of the stretcher bearers wobbled and staggered out of the ‘muddy’ and ‘watery’ trenches. As ‘hostile shell fire increased’ throughout the evening, by 23:00pm orders were received that relief was being provided; by 05:00am the following morning (July 2nd) the relief was complete. Moore’s battalion was to have returned to ‘Ville’ but lack of accommodation necessitated halting in Meaulte. The 2nd was spent by the greater part of Moore’s battalion sitting in the main street, watching German prisoners passing through. By 16:30pm orders were received to move to ‘Becourt Wood.’ Here, the battalion was divided into carrying and working parties. The carrying parties consisted of Moore’s B Coy charged with carrying raw materials to ‘Fricourt Wood’ and to build 2 strong points there. By the 3rd, the men spent the day resting. By the 6th July, the day started ‘quiet’ but by 20:00pm the battalion moved up into the line.  Moore’s B Coy were positioned in ‘Bottom Wood.’ The HQ, in ‘Sunshade alley’ eventually had to move at around midnight because three shells fell within a few yards of the bay where they were sitting – it must have been suffocating to feel the enemy closing in, in this way. By July 6th, Moore and his comrades had largely assumed the role of ‘spectators’ in a battle that would soon call upon them to play a far more  frightfully active role. As huge losses were suffered, for pathetically small gains, the pressure for new ‘raw’ recruits to take up fighting, was ever growing.

On July 7th, orders were received to attack ‘Wood Trench’ at 20:00pm hat evening in conjunction with the 38th division who were to attack ‘Strip trench.’ A preliminary bombardment at 19:30pm, bombing ‘railway strip’ and then along ‘Wood support’ which was reportedly ‘thinly held’ was to signal the countdown to move. As Moore and his men left their front-line trenches and began to advance across no man’s land they were met with disaster. The surviving situation report for the 6th Dorsets’ tells us that at the point of attack, the Germans were holding the south east corner of Mametz Wood, where they had a machine-gunners there, waiting. As five of the platoons attempted to advance towards ‘Wood Trench’ they were ‘mown down by machine gun fire from two directions.’ According to the situation report, a ‘report of one man who came back’ said ‘the whole of (the) leading coy was mown down.’ Moore’s commanding officer wrote: ‘he was gallantly leading his platoon against an enemy trench and was hit in the head, and killed instantly…’

Following his death, Moore’s body was recovered from the battlefield where he fell south of ‘Mametz Wood’ and reportedly buried near to where he fell. Upsettingly, his burial place was lost. No more was heard regarding Moore until after the Great War guns fell silent in November of 1918. Until, in May 1919, a Graves Registration Unit (GRU) discovered a cross bearing the names of the men of the 6th Dorsets’ killed in action on the 7th July 1916. However, no bodies were discovered under the cross, despite it laying on the battlefield that Moore did attack. For Moore’s parents to be informed a marker had been found after the armistice, in which they would inevitably think, and hope the armed forces had finally collected their dead don, their hope was crushed. For an unimaginably cruel 9 years, the Moores’ bore the agony of not knowing whether their son’s body was alone, covered in earth in some god forsaken stretch of abandoned French land or was entirely destroyed during the attack or subsequent attacks. Interwar Britain was an incredibly religious era, defined by the ability to ‘hang on’ to the dead. Without his physical body, the Moores would be forever unable to pray by his graveside and felt the remnants of any kind of chance of feeling eternally close to him slip away from their fingers each day for nearly a decade. As they grew older, so did their son; but they have no idea where he was. One cannot help but be reminded of Rupert Brooke’s poetry to describe how the Moore’s must have felt:

‘…there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave… A body of England’s, breathing English air…’

In 1928, a GRU made a discovery. The exhumation and reburial report of this year notes on the given grid references an ‘unknown’ British officers body was found. This officer’s body was laid on a cresol-soaked canvas and studied for those crucial, telling, person effects. The young officer was found still in his uniform, wearing his boots, decorated with his badges, and a watch, and remarkably, on his possession, a London address. Subsequent investigation found this body, to be twenty-year-old Kenneth Hartley Moore.  The psychological impact of his exhumation nearly a decade after his death must have been enormous.