"Now, don't be a jackass, Johnny."
Jackass or no, Johnny hit him. His knuckles went crunch and Harry Bettis' nose went crunch and Bettis fell down. He lay there, his nose not looking so good.
Now, when it was apparently too late, Johnny knew what his course of action should have been. Get rid of the money-grubbing Bettis. Go to work for the government unselfishly. Insure world peace.
Too late ... too late ...
Because unless he could somehow save Jo-Anne, he would never predict the weather again—for anyone.
"But what you ask is impossible!" the Secretary of Defense said a few days later.
"If I come back, if I'm successful," Johnny said quietly, "I'm your man, for as long as you want me, without pay."
"You mean that?" the Secretary asked slowly.
"I mean it."