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Fright in France MAG
Bullets fly, the terror is thick 
 Soldiers die, the horror will stick 
 The waves are tainted, dyed with red 
 The beach is littered, covered in dead. 
 The man to the left looks for a haven 
 The men who are left all need saving 
 More men come, the boats are shot 
 More men come, effort seems for naught. 
 June sixth is the day things changed 
 They had found the way, though deranged 
 Carnage, massacre, macabre fighting 
 Death, destruction, merciless blighting. 
 When the day was through and the dead were laid, 
 The crimson tide had not begun to fade. 
 They now must press on, they must fight on. 
 And after, the rising sun must see its last dawn.

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