Regimental Sergeant Major David Nelson of the 72nd Regiment of the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada, standing in the white drill jacket uniform and kilt in front of the Beatty Street drill hall, 1913. He was the RSM from 1910 to 1915. He was Scottish born and had previously served in the Imperial Seaforths for 21 years. He joined the 16th (Canadian Scottish) Battalion, CEF in 1914 and was sent to the 11th (Reserve) Battalion, CEF after being wounded. From the History of the 16th Battalion, CEF, pages 99-100: "Regimental Sergeant-major Davie Nelson, who was Sergeant-major of the Seaforth Highlanders of Canada, Vancouver, and previously a colour-sergeant of the Imperial Seaforths with whom he saw long service, had been wounded on July 11th, and evacuated to England never to rejoin the Battalion. Nelson, without doubt, was the most outstanding character of the original 16th. Ordinarily, in the performance of his duties as R.S.M., he could not help becoming well known to all ranks, and in disposition and mannerisms he was far from ordinary. He was not the usual type of Sergeant-major. There was nothing vehement about him. He talked in a quiet deliberate way; but, however quiet the voice might be, no man in the 16th ever misunderstood the authority behind it. Davie Nelson could not be trifled with; he knew how to handle the most obstreperous soldier. At West Down South one night a prisoner charged with drunkenness became violent and noisy, and being physically exceptionally strong-the situation was getting out of hand. The R.S.M. was called. He ordered the man to be spreadeagled and tied to tent pegs at his ankles and wrists, and instructed that further tent pegs were to be used to gag him if the noise persisted. That remedy settled the disturbance. Nelson was the essence of efficiency himself and he expected others to be equally efficient. "Repeat—the—order,—Sergeant," to quote his invariable formula when duty details were being taken down by the orderly non-commissioned officers; which order was followed by the stern query "Do—you—understand?" If the sergeant did not understand he was very patient with him in explaining; but woe betide the non-commissioned officer who said "Yes, Sir," to that question and did not comprehend. He had the sternest sense of duty. His kit was meagre and contained not one unauthorized article. What the troops had, he had,and nothing more. If any extra ration, or any special article of clothing or equipment, was brought to him he asked "Is this an issue?" and if told that it was not, even if it had been bought for him, he said in his usual deliberate fashion "Take it away." But the regulation issue he must have, and delivered into his hand. On the afternoon of the day the 16th left the Salient in 1915 (May 4th), a Commanding Officer's parade was held at the farm where the Battalion was resting, and, to the horror of all ranks, Davie appeared unshaved, very much so. Colonel Leckie, rather taken aback, asked the Sergeant-major what had happened, and was told by him that he had lost his razor and until issued with another—and he could have had a razor for the asking —he could not shave. Government property with him was sacred: it was literally an obsession. At Fleurbaix, while superintending the burial of a casualty, after the body had been lowered to the bottom of a wet grave, he asked if the puttees had been brought away: "No, they hadn't"'—"well, get them, they are government property;" and, rather disturbed, the burial party reclaimed the puttees. It was currently reported that the Sergeant-major in his prime was the champion light-weight boxer of his regiment, or it may have been the champion of a command, and a first class all round athlete. In 1914, however, he was. beyond these triumphs. The spare, firm figure had lost its suppleness, and, without any suspicion of slackness, was slightly bent. The face was sphinx-like, but still retained the determined expression which told plainly enough how Davie in a tight corner would give a good account of himself to the last blow. Apart from duty he seldom spoke. He was an inveterate smoker, and during his leisure hours had a habit of standing by his tent, pipe in mouth, moving it from side to side, as he gazed straight ahead with a fixed faraway look; or he would walk up and down as on sentry go with his hands clasped behind his back gazing toward the ground. Only once did he unbend and that was at Lark Hill on New Year's Day, 1915, when, to the amazement of the sergeants' mess, he played on the flute, danced in the reels, and made a good fellow of himself all round. In truth Davie Nelson was more than a Regimental Sergeant-Major in the 16th, he was an "institution." He will never be forgotten by those who served with him. One of the questions always asked by one or another of them when they foregather—a question which can never be answered—is "I wonder what's happening to Davie Nelson now?" They ask it because they realize they owe a debt of gratitude to the first R. S. M. of the Battalion for the thoroughness with which he trained them, and the example of devotion to duty which he left behind him for them to follow". He died in Reading, England in 1955. The attached colour photo, from the City of Vancouver Archives, was colourized by Mark Truelove (CanadianColour) for the Seaforth website (Imgrum). 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