We’ve been learning about Karl Porisch’s Vietnam service, piloting CH-46 helicopters with Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 263 (MMH 263) out of Marble Mountain Airfield south of Danang. He arrived there in October 1970.

Karl remembered Christmas 1970 with a smile, as he found the day’s missions particularly satisfying.

“There was a truce, so all day long our squadron flew hot food to the field for the troops. They put them in Mermite cans. (Karl laughed) They were big, heavy, and well-insulated; but there was turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and everything else. We flew most of the day. You know, the mission of the CH-46 was to support the ground troops. You brought them food. If they were wounded, you got them to the hospital. But you were always doing it for those guys that were on the ground.”

There were other missions that Karl remembered vividly for other reasons. Mission 80 was a stand-by mission, which was often boring as it involved sitting on the LZ of the supported unit and waiting for something to happen. Karl remembered the first time something happened.

“I think it was the first or second time I flew it, there was a company that got in trouble, so we went in. It was the 1st time the gunners were cleared to use the .50 cals. We got to the LZ in the mountains and there was this tree line. From the left seat the .50 cal had a pindle and it would stop about here. (Indicating two feet to the left of the co-pilot’s seat) ‘Oh, but that made a racket! I had a helmet and ear plugs, but it was just a horrendous noise. We were receiving fire. They never hit us, but that kind of scared me. I thought, ‘They are trying to kill us.'”

Karl shared another mission that quickly turned dangerous.

I recall the first time I flew as an aircraft commander. After you’d been there three or four months you’d take a check ride and they’d say, ‘You are ready to be the pilot in command.’ They gave me my roommate, Jim Martin, as my co-pilot and we were flying Mission 7. Almost everybody who made HAC (Helicopter Aircraft Commander) got that mission because you never got in trouble with it.”

Karl explained the mission they flew that day.

“There was a place south of Marble Mountain called Spider Lake, below one of the ridges of the Que Son Mountains. There was a Korean Marine company there running patrols that had some wounded guys. Their doctor was down at their LZ, so we flew this doc up to the ridge LZ; dropped him off; and returned to Spider Lake. They called when they were ready, so we cranked up and headed out. We always took turns doing take-offs and landings, so I said, ‘Jim, go ahead and make the landing.’ We landed; the crew chief lowered the ramp; and three or four guys loaded with the Doc. The crew chief said, ‘They’re aboard and the ramp is up, sir.’

Since the co-pilot had landed the aircraft, Karl made the take-off.

“This company position was right on the ridge line. I picked up into a hover; made sure I had take-off power; and nosed it over. There was a 1,000 foot drop at the ridge edge. I got just over that edge and there was this huge explosion, enough to shake the helicopter. We were probably 50 to 75 feet in the air. Jim and I looked at each other and our eyes were that big.” (Karl held his thumbs and forefingers together in big circles)

Karl’s flight emergency training kicked in.

“I checked the instruments and everything looked OK. I asked the crew chief whether there was anything back there and he said, ‘It looks like we are OK back here.’ Then I called the LZ and they said, ‘Something went off when you went over the ridge line.’ We figured the Viet Cong had recovered a 105mm round and put it in the tree line with a wired pin so rotor wash from a helicopter, would pull that pin and trigger it. It put I don’t know how many holes in the helicopter. I called back to our squadron right away and told the duty officer, ‘We’re bringing this thing back because we’ve had a back explosion.’ We went down the ridgeline to an American unit and landed without shutting down. The crew chief got out and said, ‘We’ve got a lot of holes in the stub wings, the fuel cells have been punctured.’ He added, ‘I don’t think the auxiliary power unit is going to work. There’s a big hole back where the exhaust stack is located.’ We went back (to Marble Mountain) and, sure enough, the APU wouldn’t start, so, we had to shut it down without electrical power. Both fuel cells had been punctured. They were self-sealing, but they had to change those. Maintenance was not happy with me.” (Karl laughed)

Karl later learned the explosion had caused other, more serious damage to the aircraft.

“The thing that really scared me was that the maintenance chief came out, saying, ‘Lieutenant Porisch, I want to show you something.’ We looked at one of the blades. The leading edge of one of the spars, which holds the blade had a big hole in it. If that had failed, I wouldn’t be here talking with you. We were fortunate. That left an impression.”

Weeks of flying lay ahead, but Karl’s Vietnam tour was about to be shortened.

©2025 William D. Palmer.