Belleau Wood

Gabriel looked down at the locket, wondering, forever wondering, and then he pushed it into a pocket, and gripped his rifle tight, waiting, his foot on the first step, the artillery fire sporadic now, the machine guns and rifles still barking their rhythm of death and destruction. He stole a quick glance into the sky, and noted, to his surprise, that the snow had stopped.

And then the whistle blew, and he heaved himself up the ladder, over the top of the trench, into the battle.

But for just one fleeting moment
The answer seemed so clear
Heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's just beyond the fear

No, heaven's not beyond the clouds
It's for us to find it here

- Belleau Wood, Garth Brooks