ABOVE THE BEST: BILL UNDERWOOD and the Vietnam Chopper Pilot Commemorative Plaque

Posted on June 18, 2025August 6, 2025 by Martin Cooney, Stone Sculptor

One of the Unexpected Joys of Being a Professional Stone Carver and Sculptor has been the Many, Many Chance Encounters with Members of the Public who feel Drawn to My Actions as well as my Carvings and Sculptures, resulting in Hundreds if not Thousands of Interesting and Engaging Conversions. And of all these Fascinating Encounters, None Epitomize the Strong Character and Nature of this Diverse Group of Individuals than my Chance Meeting with Bill Underwood Last Summer within the Verdant Confines of the Fledgling Walled Garden of Alta Vista, Kansas.

Immediately upon our meeting, it became apparent that Bill was a true and true character of the old connotation of the word; strong, stout, direct and exuding a confidence and strength of purpose that appears to be now dwindling with the onset of each generation. In short, he is what I would term a real man’s man. And with each encounter I was struck by a sense that this quiet, astute and direct man had a story to tell that would explain much about his self-assured demeanor and temperant manner. So it was not without a little coaxing on my part that I at last got him to open up and relate his story – the result of which is now carved in bas relief on a piece of stone that I selected from his old abandoned limestone quarry, located a quarter of a mile or so behind his farmhouse, situated a half-a-mile outside the Alta Vista city limits and nestled in the Wabaunsee County’s picturesque and tranquil Flint Hills.

A mature man with a gray beard and mustache, wearing a brown shirt and a cap, stands confidently against a backdrop of brick walls and a grey tarp, reflecting a sense of strength and character.

Bill Underwood

The summer of ’24 was for me a volatile time of reckoning. Kris and I had just departed Colorado the previous year and were now busy relocating to our new surrounding in Alta Vista, Kansas. The Walled Garden of Alta Vista was a project that I devised with local businessman Ben Kormanic, of Kormanic Construction, to repurpose an old dilapidated and roofless former car showroom and gas station.

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The resulting several months of work (hard work, I can tell you) were drawing to a close and the garden beginning to burst into bloom when a particularly robust, strong, (and as I was to find out) deep voiced, quiet and gentle man, made his way toward me in a manner that caught my attention immediately. After all, this was not the sort of person to whom I wished to be caught off guard, so I sorted myself out, straightened up and prepared to meet him square on, as it were. After a few such cordial encounters, I ventured to ask of his background and what I heard struck a chord. Turns out, he was a real, flesh and blood, Vietnam helicopter pilot! Never in my life had I shaken hands with one before, let alone stood toe to toe, eye to eye and conversed at some length. In short, I was ever so slightly overawed.

To put matters into perspective, I had recently read an old well-worn paperback book that the Council Grove library decided to discard for ten cents. It told, in the most direct manner possible – that of firsthand experience, of the pure hell, terror and turmoil that those ‘In Country’ Vietnam Veterans went through. Of course, chief amongst them … the brave, noble and sanguine “Chopper Pilots”. And now, low and behold, here was one of them, looking directly into my eye and standing tall and proud and seemingly without a care in the world … as such truly heroic characters as Bill are prone to do. WOW, I thought to myself. This is the REAL THING.

Bas relief stone carving depicting helicopters and soldiers with the inscription 'ABOVE THE BEST'.

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No doubt, I made a bit of a babbling fool of myself as I thought (quickly) of how to expand upon the topic of his noble service. But to his credit, he stuck with it. And those piercing eyes, whilst reflecting a fair bit of incredulity, nonetheless appeared equally curious – stoked no doubt by my persistent interest in his unbridled bravery in Vietnam. Then, ‘he took the bait’, as I thought of it, and started asking a few concise questions, regarding my eager bank of Vietnam War knowledge, with a few poignant queries about the range, scope and accuracy of my apparent wealth of insight into the conflict.

Well, the book – DEATH VALLEY, by Keith William Nolan, Copyright 1987 by Presidio Press – which coincidently I had just read, had prepared me well. Very well, indeed. The Military Review called it “An absolutely superb account … a major contribution to the Vietnam war literature”. And indeed, it was. Told largely using heartbreaking and terrifying first-hand accounts gained from hundreds of interviews, the tattered paperback grabbed me and thrust me headlong into the hot, steaming trauma that was the Vietnam war, where boys and men were ‘choppered in’ to strongly defended fortified jungle outposts and sent on wildly dangerous missions that involved acts of bravery and in some cases sacrifices that defy comprehension – with many of the combatants ushered into the conflict with little say in the matter. Three hundred and sixty-seven pages later, I was saddened and quite frankly horrified. Prior to this book, I had no real idea what these soldiers went through, so I was still reeling from the impact of learning the harsh realities of the ‘Vietnam War’.

Bas relief carving depicting soldiers in a grassy terrain, created by Martin Cooney in 2025.

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At this time, in the summer of ‘24, I knew who this man had been back in the summer of ‘69, and what he had done, and how very many times he had done it; flown right over the jungle tree tops, hovered over rice paddies, picked up the dead, dying and wounded, flown in the newbies (rookies) and hauled out the vets. In short, he had done it all… over, and over, and over and over again. And here he was, a legend in his own time and one of a now disappearing breed.

At some point the topic descended upon the stone that I use to carve my work and I mentioned that I had been carving Kansas limestone for twenty years, in Colorado, and now I had ‘swam upstream’ to the source as a way of relocating away from the Rocky Mountain state. To which he proudly announced that at the back of his farm, just on the edge of town, there was an old, abandoned stone quarry … “you’re welcome to come out and take a look”. Well, I didn’t need a second invitation. “Sure, I’d love to”, I gushed.

Upon our arrival at his farm Kris and I were warmly greeted and shown around his spread with pride and enthusiasm. Bill drove us on a tour, introduced us to his heard of horses, took us down to the large pond and generally made us feel quite at home, when suddenly a large opening appeared that immediately indicated that we had arrived at the quarry. Overgrown and tangled with vegetation as it was, with my seasoned eye for these things I can spot a quarry from any angle, given the flat, right-angled shelves of the various worked seams, even if they are cloaked with camouflage in the form of vegetation. So, we had arrived.

Bas relief carving depicting a helicopter hovering above soldiers in a grassy landscape, representing a scene reminiscent of the Vietnam War.

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Poking around the various mounds and piles of discarded flotsam and jetsam that all quarries, abandoned or not, inevitably display, I came across a rather uniform wedge shape ‘splinter’ of quarry stone that I thought showed at least some promise. “Can I take this?” I asked. “And in return for a carving, have scavenging rights to come back and gleam through the quarry from time to time”?

And with that, the deal was on. Now we had to decide just what the carving was to portray. But with images of chopper pilots hovering in and out of rice paddies after clipping the jungle canopy still clearly imprinted on my mind, the formula was already set. The resulting bas relief is actually a montage of images that I gleamed off the internet, that when I showed Bill, he immediately nodded his approval, and I commenced my task with enthusiasm. This was, after all, my first Kansas limestone carving to be carved IN Kansas. History was being made.

A man standing behind a large stone slab, wearing a gray cap and a dark shirt, in a workshop setting with wooden materials and a brick wall in the background.

Me, with the ABOVE THE BEST plaque, about to begin the carving process in the small Walled Garden of Alta Vista stone carving workshop.

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Then, circumstances intervened. The Walled Garden’s summer season drew to a close. Winter set in, and of course, with the onset of the new year I was suddenly propelled into the convoluted and all-encompassing task of setting up the Martin Cooney Stoneworks in nearby Council Grove. So, all-in-all, time passed, and nothing further got done by way of carving until one day Bill showed up and politely asked how things were coming along “…you know, with the carving”? Cue a bit of real time embarrassment as I stumbled out a few excuses. But he was right. Time had come to finish the thing and hand it to the man as I had promised … last summer!

But first there was one little matter to settle. “Would you like an inscription of some kind, here”. I pointed to the top of the stone where even as I was carving thought that something should be added there.

Quick as a trigger, he immediately replied: “Above the Best”. “That’s what we used to say … that we were up here, above the best, down there”, and he underscored the point with a flash of his eyes. “Down, there”.

A carved limestone plaque titled 'ABOVE THE BEST', featuring helicopter imagery and soldiers in a jungle scene, displayed in a workshop setting with industrial surroundings.

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I knew what he meant. It was perfect.

ABOVE THE BEST it was. “All in capitals”. Indeed.

Two men standing beside a carved stone plaque reading 'ABOVE THE BEST'. One man is older with a cap, and the other is younger with glasses, both are smiling.

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And that’s about it, really. A short while ago he showed up at the stoneworks along with his son. We talked a little. Posed for a couple of photos. After which I loaded it into the back seat of his pickup truck. And with profuse and sincere thanks, handshakes and a touch of genuine emotion, he was off. Back up Highway 177 to his farm on the outskirts of Alta Vista.

A man stands beside a carved stone plaque that reads 'ABOVE THE BEST' in a workshop setting, highlighting the intricate details of the carving.

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But, unlike most carvings, masonry and sculpture born of these hands, I hope I will be seeing ABOVE THE BEST again at some point in the future. And maybe even continue to grow our new found friendship as time rolls by.