Zimbabwe Cricket Photo Quiz

[Ming]

That's Peter Douglas Swart, who also turned out for Glamorgan and Western Province.

[foreignfield]

That's Peter Douglas Swart, who also turned out for Glamorgan and Western Province.

Yes, that's him.

Took over 300 FC wickets, 6000+ FC runs.

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[foreignfield]

381. The first player to score a FC century for Rhodesia. Who was he?

ZCQ.jpg (5.4 KiB) Viewed 3554 times

[foreignfield]

Any interest in this historical question?

It happened before WW I, and the gentleman is question was one of a band of three English brothers who all played FC cricket.

[CrimsonAvenger]

Warrants a lot of googling, and still trying to find out

[Jemisi]

Herbert Keigwin?

[foreignfield]

Herbert Keigwin?

Yes, well done! It is indeed Herbert Keigwin who achieved his career best of 111 in Rhodesia's third FC match, a draw against a very strong HD Leveson-Gower's XI which included 7 English and South African Test players who had featured in the previous Test series between the two countries. http://cricketarchive.com/Archive/Score ... /8082.html

Herbert Keigwin, like his younger brothers, went to Cambridge and played FC cricket for the university as well as for London County. His brother Henry's most memorable cricketing moment undoubtably came when he opened the batting in WG Grace's last ever FC match alongside the Victorian Maestro (Henry was out for a duck) for the Gentlemen of England. Henry also moved to Rhodesia (Bulawayo) but was killed in 1916 on the Somme. The third brother, Richard, who also played FC cricket, stayed in England and became a celebrated expert and translator of Danish literature, especially the works of H.C. Andersen.

Interesting family.

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[foreignfield]

I simply love delving into cricketing history because it throws up all those little interesting bits and pieces of information or trivia and it can lead you into territory you didn't even know existed. Looking at the scorecard of that match above, I also got interested in the left-arm opening bowler Jock (George) Anderson who took 7 wickets for Rhodesia in the first innings, something he had also achieved in the colony's first FC match five years previously against Transvaal (those were his only two FC matches ever). 7-91 must still be a record for a Zimbabwean/Rhodesian bowler on FC debut, bettered by 7-78 in his second match.

I tried to track down a photo of this gentleman, but not surprisingly I did not succeed. But what I came across was equally interesting: The story of another Jock Anderson (his son or nephew?) who was a commanding officer of the British forces in what is now Zim, Zambia and Malawi. As told by his son, the actor Miles Anderson, he wasn't great friends with Ian Smith: http://www.milesanderson.us/chapter-14.html

Now Ian Douglas Smith and my father never got on. In fact, Jock thought Smith was an ‘arsehole’. Smith’s Minister for Information – a man called P. K. van der Byl (who, despite his name, was frightfully, frightfully British) – had invented this great history of Ian Smith. He told how Ian Smith had tackled the Hun alone, and he alone had basically won the war in the skies for England – because he’d fought for the RAF. (He’d been a RRAF pilot, Royal Rhodesian Air Force pilot.) The real story, however, is that as a student Ian Smith (like Douglas Bader – who, when I met him, I found to be another prime ‘arsehole’) had crash-landed his plane on take-off. So he hadn’t actually been engaged with Spitfires at all. As a result of his crash landing, Ian Smith now had a badly scarred face and, the moment he was elected, all these pictures and copper plaques suddenly emerged in Woolworth’s and the OK Bazaars, on which Ian Smith was shown in his flying jacket with this slightly skew-whiff eye that had allegedly been damaged during the war, with Messerschmits and Spitfires locked in mortal combat. And he became this huge hero. But it was all absolute, utter bullshit. Thus, he and my father never got on, and Jock said that if this man ever did anything unconstitutional, he would arrest him.

If Jock had played his cards a little more closely to his chest, he might actually have prevailed. But he was too outspoken, and word got back that the General and Officer commanding the defence forces of Rhodesia (i.e. my dad, because he commanded both the air force and the army) was against Ian Smith.

One day – it was the 23rd October 1964, my 17th birthday – Ian Smith called Jock into his office and said, ‘General Anderson, certain charges have been laid against you: allegedly you said this on this day, you said that on that day, you said this on that day and you said that on this day. Is that so?

And my father said, ‘Yes, I did.’

‘Well,’ said Smith, ‘what would happen if I declared UDI?’

UDI would have been highly illegal and utterly unconstitutional. And my father said, ‘I’d arrest you if you declared UDI. I’d not only arrest you, but I’d arrest you and the whole bloody cabinet, and I’d throw you into gaol.’

Smith looked Jock in the eye and unblinkingly said, ‘I’ll have you out by lunchtime.’

And Jock replied equally unflinchingly, ‘Well, you know that you’re not going to be able to get me out. I’m the Queen’s man. And until the Governor General dismisses me, I shall remain in command of this army.’

‘We’ll see about that!’ said Smith, and he asked my father to leave.

Jock got into his staff car and drove back to his office.

In the time it took Jock to drive from Smith’s office to his own, Ian Smith had decided that he would get rid of my father on some trumped-up legality dreamed up by his Chief Justice, a man called Sir Hugh Beadle. (Beadle was renowned for shooting guinea fowl while they were still on the ground, so you can tell what sort of an ‘arsehole’ he was.) When Jock got back to his office, there was a letter waiting for him addressed to Major-General J. Anderson, CBE. It said:

‘Dear General Anderson,

‘I am directed to inform you that the Minister of Defence requires, in terms of the second proviso to subsection (3) of section 9 of the Defence (Regular Forces) (Officers) Regulations, 1960, that you retire from your employment in the Regular Force with effect from today, the 23rd October, 1964.’

The letter then went on to describe his pensionable status and was signed ironically, ‘Yours faithfully’ by the Secretary for External Affairs and Defence. Basically, they had dreamt up a charge whereby the head of the armed forces, if found to be ‘unfit for command’, (which really meant that he was a drunk or a drug addict or something like that) could be relieved of his office. Now, Jock liked a drink, but he was hardly what you’d call an alcoholic, and he was certainly never considered ‘unfit for command’.

Having read the letter, he left his office, got into his car and drove to Government House. There he went to see the Governor General, a man called Sir Humphrey Gibbs. Dad sought him out and said to him, ‘Look, this is what has happened,’ and he showed Gibbs the letter. ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘I have a regiment of troops waiting in Bulawayo. Give me the order and they will rise when I say, “Rise”. They will rise up and follow me.’

‘And what do you intend to do?’ asked Sir Humphrey. And apparently this is what Jock said:

‘Harold Hawkins [who was the Air Vice Marshall of the Rhodesian Air Force] is going to fly me in a helicopter 300 miles down to Bulawayo, Matabeleland. I’m going to raise the regiment. I’m going to put a company of them in a Dakota. We’re going to fly them over the RLI barracks. They’re going to parachute into the RLI barracks. They’re going to seize the armoury. Once they’ve seized the armoury, they’ll have secured the whole of Mashonaland and Salisbury – because apart from the Royal Rhodesian Regiment, who as you know are all territorials, there are no other standing regiments of regular soldiers within Salisbury.’

Jock believed such a coup would have lasted about a week. ‘We can gaol every single member of the cabinet and we can declare martial law. And the government will be taken over by you, Governor General.’

And the Governor General looked him in the eye and said, ‘You know there would be mass bloodshed.’

And Jock said, ‘If we do this, there’ll be a bit of a battle of course and a few shootings, but that will be the end of it. But, if you don’t do it – if you don’t allow this – there’ll be a war of unforeseen proportions and thousands will be killed.’

It didn’t take Sir Humphrey Gibbs long to decide that no, they weren’t going to do it. And at that point, my father realised there was nothing else for it, but to go back and execute Ian Smith. At least this would be one thing that he could do single-handedly.

He left Sir Humphrey Gibbs, and he drove from the Governor General’s office back to our house. He went into his dressing room and he drew his pistol out of a drawer in the top of his wardrobe. He went back out to the car and drove to Ian Smith’s office. On arriving at the Prime Minister’s office, he walked straight into the building, thinking, ‘Well, I’m going to shoot you, and that’s the end of it.’

As it happened, Smith had gone out to lunch. So my father sat down in the reception and he waited. And he waited. And he waited.

‘The Prime Minister’s not back yet,’ Smith’s secretary kept saying. ‘He won’t be back for a while… He’s meant to be back later…’

From time to time, she made some phone calls, and various phone calls came in to the office. It was obviously Ian Smith and his cronies asking, ‘Is Anderson still there?’ ‘Yes, he is still here, and he’s got a pistol with him.’

Jock made no attempt to hide his pistol. He was determined that he was going to shoot Smith and that would finish it all. ‘Carpe diem, boy.’

But Smith didn’t come back and the clock ticked to half past two. And the longer Jock waited, the more he realised his mission was becoming increasingly futile and he was looking increasingly stupid. After an hour and a half, he left the Prime Minister’s office, got into his car and drove back home.

It was a Friday, and I’d been at cadets, where we’d been rehearsing for a ceremonial parade. I was the senior lieutenant and I was feeling so full of myself, especially as it was my 17th birthday. (I’d returned to school that September after passing enough of my O level resits to graduate to my Matric year, so things were going okay.) It was about half-past four when I rode down the drive on my Lambretta. I parked my scooter up and I sauntered into the courtyard of our house. I was still in my cadet uniform and, seeing my father standing in the courtyard, I walked up to him and I saluted him:

‘Afternoon, General.’

He turned his face towards me and I saw tears streaming down his cheeks. My father never cried.

‘Don’t ever call me General again.’ That’s all he said.

And I thought, ‘Christ Almighty, what’s the matter?’

I raced into the front door and my mum was sitting with her head in her arms on the dining room table.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. And she said, ‘Sit down, I’m going to tell you something.’

I sat down and I looked at her.

‘Your father’s been fired from the Rhodesian Army.’ That was all she said.

For hours and hours, my father remained silent. He simply couldn’t speak to any of us.

And then all hell broke loose. It was all over the news. We had BBC reporters coming to our house. Outside the front door, there were hordes of photographers waiting. And Jock tried desperately to play the whole thing down.

On the Sunday, he said to me, ‘Do you want to come and watch the Currie Cup cricket match with me? Rhodesia are playing Natal.’ He knew I loved cricket and of course I said, ‘Yes’. We drove to the cricket match and went to the Stragglers’ tent (Dad was a member of a group called The Stragglers). Inside the Stragglers’ tent was a guy called Clifford du Pont (who later became the officer administrating the government and took over the role of the Governor General) and a guy called Des Lardner-Burke (who was the Minister of Defence). They both came up to my dad and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Ah, Jock! Really sorry about what’s happened.’

‘Oh, that’s all right,’ he shrugged. ‘Let’s go and have a drink.’ And they went off for a drink.

I was appalled.

When he came back, I said, ‘How could you do that? How could you go and have a drink with these people?’ And he just said, ‘Oh Miles, live and let live.’

...

A year later in 1965, Ian Smith declared independence just as he’d threatened. All Rhodesian troops, Rhodesian cadets and students were recalled from England. John was recalled from Sandhurst because he was a member of the Rhodesian Army, and so he resigned his commission in England. Jock flew over to London and, because he had friends in the British Army, he was able to secure John a place in the Gurkhas. But all the other poor students were sent back to Rhodesia.

Six months after UDI, we were to leave our homeland forever....

Planning to shoot Ian Smith on Friday, watching the cricket in Sunday. Amazing story.

[eugene]

Rhodesian history is so fascinating, the UDI period particularly.

[CrimsonAvenger]

Amazing stories these, had referred to Miles Anderson's chapter 18 while asking about Theo Passaportis a bit earlier too: http://zimcricketforums.com/viewtopic.p ... 992#p56992