Beasley While Bill Beasley served in Vietnam in the 1960s, the U.S. military was already desegregated. Unfortunately, a segregation of men's minds remained.

"The army was integrated, but the minds of many of the personnel and officers were not integrated," says Beasley, a Chandler native.

Beasley remembers "a young fellow named Cunningham from Tennessee. " It was clear to everyone that Cunningham carried an extreme prejudice because of simple things, such as where he sat during meals and his rude comments.

Prejudice had been a way of life for these young soldiers who grew up in 50s and 60s, so for Beasley, the young man's attitude was not even a source of concern. Beasley recognized it, but he ignored it.

"People are people. We move our traditions from country to country with us. Some people's favorite food was Jim Crow, as they say, and they just took it with them," Beasley says with a grin.

He credits his own father with giving him the inspiration to handle himself with dignity in the face of such blatant prejudice and racism.

"Oh, my God, he was such an inspiring man," says Beasley, describing the man he remembers as full of faith. "He would do anything for anybody. He would give his last penny or service to make this place better."

When American soldiers arrived in Taiwan for a stopover, people would call out, "Americans! Americans!" Beasley claims it is the first time he remembers being recognized simply as an American.

"It shocked me to be recognized as an `American.' I had always been `colored' as it was said at that time, or `negro,' or worse," he adds with a shrug but no malice.

Once on the ground in Vietnam, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that race was playing a part in many aspects of daily circumstances.

"They wouldn't let two black MPs serve together. Always, they wanted a white and a black soldier to go out together on patrol. But as soon as we'd get around the corner from headquarters, we'd switch up. We'd leave integrated and come back segregated," Beasley laughs.

Conditions in Vietnam were steamy, with rain every day, because it was the monsoon season.

"It was extremely miserable, " says Beasley. "We slept with nets over our beds because the mosquitoes were so big they would eat you alive. We couldn't drink the water; we had to add pills to the water. Trucks brought in the water by tank.

Nothing was segregated about the camp's physical conditions, according to Beasley.

However, each week when they announced the new rankings - those soldiers who had been promoted - a pattern began to emerge.

First, the new arrivals did not notice the black soldiers were being systematically overlooked, since they had no way of knowing who had been there the longest.

After serving for several months, however, it became obvious the leadership "selectively gave ranks to whites over blacks" who were doing the same jobs for the same length of time or longer.

"We were so young and simple," says Beasley, explaining that it became a joke among the black soldiers. "Who needed a rank? I just wanted to come home."

Even as the discrimanatory pattern of rankings repeated itself week after week, the soldiers had more important matters on which to focus.

Warfare was happening in the trenches and foxholes all around them.

"The Vietcong had a strange way of unifying us," says Beasley with a smile. "When your life is on the line it's hard to distinguish what color the person in the foxhole next to you is. You just want to know that it is somebody who has got your back."

Beasley proved to himself, and to his fellow soldiers, that he could do the job at hand.

"You want the best on your team when it's about survival," says Beasley, referring to the way they looked out for each other, regardless of race.

As their tour of duty drew to an end, it became obvious the black soldiers would finally have to receive their rankings.

"I don't need it. I don't want it," Beasley told his commander when his ranking finally came through.

Beasley refused to sew the patch on his sleeve in protest of the injustice.

"I was told that whether I wanted it or not, I had to have it to rotate home," says Beasley.

That news made a difference. The policy at that time was that soldiers, to return home, had to receive an E3 ranking. Furthermore, his officer also informed Beasley he would have to sew on his patch.

Seated in first class on the flight home, Beasley ran into on old acquaintance - Cunningham from Tennessee.

"Bill, I was so wrong about how I treated you," Cunningham told Beasley on the trip back home a year later. "I'm a changed man. I realize that there is no difference between you and me."

Beasley believes that Cunningham's future was changed for the better because of the new understanding he acquired that year in Vietnam.

"He got more out of his tour in Vietnam than he would have in four years of college where he might never have learned that lesson, " says Beasley, "Apparently, he had interacted with some black friends in a way that had taught him that they had intelligence and compassion, just like him."

In the years since Vietnam, Beasley has had time to process the meaning of his experiences. He credits the military with accomplishing something that was difficult to achieve in a culture where traditions were firmly rooted, desegregating the minds of a whole generation of soldiers.