It was at Khoosh-ab that his act of heroism took place. Near this village, some way inland behind Bushire, the Persians were massed about eight thousand strong. Outram’s little army had made a successful advance into the interior and routed the Persian troops with considerable loss on their side, and was now making its way back to the coast. Surprise attacks at night had been frequent, but this was the first attempt to make a determined stand against our troops.
It was by a singular irony of fate that in this war we should have had to fight against soldiers trained in the art of war by British officers. But so it was. After Sir John Malcolm’s mission to Persia in 1810, the Shah set to work to remodel his army among other institutions, and British officers were borrowed for the purpose of bringing it to a state of efficiency. The soldiers who gave battle to our troops at Khoosh-ab, therefore, on February 8th, 1857, were not raw levies. But, for all that, when it came to a pitched battle the Persians showed great pusillanimity. At the charges of the Bengal Cavalry their horsemen scattered like chaff before the wind.
Most of the infantry, too, fled when Forbes’ turbaned sowars of the 3rd Bengals and Poonah Horse rode down upon them, as panic-stricken as the cavalry. But there was one regiment that, to its honour, stood firm. In proper square formation they awaited the onset of the charge, the front rank kneeling with fixed bayonets, and those behind firing in volleys.
With his colonel by his side, Lieutenant Moore led his troop of the Bengals when the order was given to charge, but Forbes having been hit the young officer found himself alone. He had doubtless read of Arnold Winkelried’s brave deed at Sempach, when “in arms the Austrian phalanx stood,” but whether this was in his mind or not he resolved on a bold course. He would “break the square.”
As he neared the front rank of gleaming steel, above which, through the curls of smoke, appeared the dark bearded faces of the Persians, Moore pulled his charger’s head straight, drove in his spurs, and leapt sheer on to the raised bayonets. The splendid animal fell dead within the square, pinning its rider beneath its body; but the lieutenant was up and on his feet in an instant, while through the gap he had made the sowars charged after him.
In his fall Moore had the misfortune to break his sword, and he was now called on to defend himself with but a few inches of steel and a revolver. Seeing his predicament, the Persians closed round him, eager to avenge their defeat on the man who had broken their square. Against these odds he must inevitably have gone under had not help been suddenly forthcoming.
Luckily for him, his brother-officer, Lieutenant Malcolmson, saw his danger. Spurring his horse, he dashed through the throng of Persians to his comrade’s aid, laying a man low with each sweep of his long sword. Then, bidding Moore grip a stirrup, he clove a way free for both of them out of the press. What is certainly a remarkable fact is that neither of the two received so much as a scratch.
Malcolmson’s plucky rescue was noted for recognition when the proper time came, and in due course he and Moore received their V.C.’s together. The former died a few years ago, but Moore is still with us, a Major-General and a C.B.