They had gone up to the Boche trenches, in the eye of the sun, machine-gunning them and dropping small bombs.
The Butte de Warlencourt looked very beautiful in the afternoon light that summer.

Pale gold against the eastern sky, with the mangled remains of trees and houses, which was once Le Sars, on its left.

But what must it have looked like when the Somme was covered with snow, and the white-garmented Tommies used to raid it at night?
It must surely have been a ghostly sight then, in the winter of 1916.
About this time I went to Paris several week-ends at odd times and painted for the Canadians Generals Burstall, Watson and Lipsett, also Major O'Connor.

Poor Lipsett was killed by a shell later.

He was a thoughtful, clever, quiet man, and was greatly respected.