24. Remember, Remember, Some Day in November

Smith-Ramirez looked slightly mad when the soldiers brought him in, but it was the sort of madness you saw in good soldiers on an urgent mission, not the sort you troubled a psychiatrist to analyze.

He barely managed to keep quiet until the soldiers were dismissed and the door closed, then burst out with “Hey!” rather in the manner of the ancient poet beginning with "Hwæt!"

“Hey! I got it. I got a thing. Armistice Day Blizzard. It happened—it’s gonna happen this November. I think it’s pretty warm right now, like fifty degrees, sorry I don’t know Celsius, but this blizzard comes up out of nowhere and kills a bunch of people. Duck hunters in Minnesota and guys on the Great Lakes, mostly.” The last sentence seemed to strike him. “I guess you could warn them?” he added hopefully, still looking mission-mad. This instinctive reaction of concern or loyalty was interesting, and noted.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Captain Short said, coming in right on cue, “But I very much doubt your people are likely to take unfounded weather reports from the British Intelligence services about freak snowstorms blowing up out of the blue. Especially if it would interfere with the shooting.”

Smith chewed his lip, looking down and away. “Yeah, I ... guess you’re right.”

“In any event, you’ve done them a great service by telling us. Giving the Allies knowledge of the future — the future, dear boy! — that’s a service to the human race. We’ll be speaking again on the 12th of November. I intend to forget the 5th by comparison!”

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