In France, we hit the beach right after D-Day and fought through all those fucking hedgerows. We finally broke out into open country. And bypassed all these Kraut divisions. We linked up with the Canadians and British and trapped an entire Kraut Army pulling back to Germany. We fucked them up. With planes and artillery. Dead Krauts and horses and busted up tanks and cars for miles. Miles. Your eyes see it but your head can’t make no sense of it. We go in there. And for three whole days we shot wounded horses. All day long. Sun up to sundown. Putting down horses. Hot summer days. Ain’t smelled nothing like it. The sound of it. Those fucking horses screaming. Black clouds of flies buzzing. Like being in a giant bee hive.