Chapter 10

Louise returned just before New Year’s Eve, and when she heard about my near miss—and Feasley’s death—she was devastated because she hadn’t been there for me. I think this was a big turning point in our relationship. I had become completely enamored with her, because she was so lively and fun to be with, but she was still playing the field and dating other guys. She told me later, however, that my almost being killed made her realize just how much she cared for me.

One evening after the New Year we were driving back to her house after a date. Because she was still going out with other guys and I couldn’t always get a date when I wanted to, I suddenly said to her, “I guess that if I want to have you all to myself, I’ll have to marry you.” It wasn’t exactly a very romantic, on-bended-knee proposal. I was just trying to find out where I stood with her. To my utter astonishment, she immediately said, “Yes.” I had won the battle of Virginia Beach.

Although she answered right away, I knew she didn’t make the decision lightly. In the six short weeks we had known each other, one of our close friends had already been killed. She realized that marrying a military man, particularly during wartime, could be tragic. Reinforcing that fact was her younger sister Mary’s experience. Mary, who was visiting with Louise during the week I proposed, had a husband on the submarine Greenling. Because of the nature of submarine warfare, Mary went months at a time without hearing from her husband. This was all the more heartrending because of the dramatic losses that our submarine forces were suffering this early in the war.

A long engagement was not too practical back then, particularly when combat was just around the corner. We bought a marriage license the next day and, since there was no waiting period required, arranged to be married the following Saturday, January 16. We didn’t tell anyone except Louise’s and my parents, Mary, and Bill Bonneau, who was to be my best man. We wanted Louise’s father to marry us, but he could not arrange to get to Virginia in time. On Saturday afternoon, following Louise’s shift at work, we went to the church for the ceremony. Just as we were getting started, Bill was suddenly called back to the squadron for some minor emergency. In his absence, Mary was the matron of honor, bridesmaid, best man, and guest.

McWhorter met Louise Edel soon after returning from North Africa. They were married a few weeks later. (McWhorter Family)

That evening we went out to Oceana for a squadron party. We still hadn’t told anyone in VF-9 other than Bill that we were married. I will never forget the look on Jack Raby’s face when we told him. His first response was “What? You can’t do that!” He was old-school Navy, from a time when a junior officer normally sought permission from his commanding officer before taking such a step. But after Raby realized that the marriage was a done deed he congratulated us.

Later during the party Louise came up to me with a big smile on her face. She whispered in my ear that one of the other pilots, Bill Blackwell, who had not heard the news, asked her to go out with him. She stopped him cold in his tracks by replying, “You will have to ask my husband first.”

In the end, Captain Jack apparently didn’t mind too much that I bypassed him on the marriage issue. He gave me a week’s leave to take my new bride down to Athens to meet my parents.

My folks immediately took to Louise, and Louise to them. Even Athens received a passing grade from her discerning eye. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the time or means to travel to New York to meet her parents. I found out much later that her mother, a Southerner from Virginia, was quite concerned that I might turn out to be some sort of a redneck “Georgia cracker,” or “hillbilly.” We all got a big laugh out of that.

After marriage there was no more wrestling in the Quonset hut for me as I had a different partner. Housing was tight, but Louise’s parents owned a house in Norfolk. When they left for New York, they rented out the bottom half to two Navy couples and saved the upper room in case Louise decided she wanted to move in. We soon moved into that small, one-room apartment.

This practice of renting rooms was very common before and during the war. There were not nearly as many motels and hotels and apartments as there are now, and the shuffling about of people that the war caused exacerbated the problem. Making rooms available for rent was considered patriotic, and it provided a little extra income.