A taste of democracy overseas

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This year was no different, as Maj. Daniel Meyers shipped out of Iraq to Germany, still too far away to sit down with his father, Alan, a Vietnam veteran, and his mother, Mary.
"It's tough and it's scary," said Mary Meyers, who had to take a sedative the first time her son, who joined the army in 1998, headed to Iraq in 2004. He went back to Iraq in 2007. "You don't think that he’s going to go, they aren't going to take your son -- then they do," she said. "The first time, I couldn't talk about it. It was devastating. The second time, I don't know why, but you feel like he's safer."
Daniel, who enlisted at age 22, was an Army combat engineer for almost nine years. In 2004, he was deployed to the Middle East to coordinate construction projects, valued at $2 billion, to build roads, schools, hospitals and other infrastructure.
He was sent back to Iraq in May of 2007, after he requested a transfer to the Army's Public Affairs office. "I became a Public Affairs officer because I thought the enemy's propaganda machine was winning public perception," Meyers said. "I knew that my skills and talent would change this perception to show the U.S. taxpayer the reality on the ground."
With the help of two translators, Meyers focused his efforts on communicating with the Iraqi people through the country's press. "Since we've been in Iraq, no one was talking to the Iraqi people and the press," he explained, "so we started translating our press releases for them."
This helped to balance Iraqi media reports, which had previously relied in part on word of mouth, sometimes directly from terrorist groups that distorted facts and inflated death counts.
Meyers also helped organize media days, at which journalists from Baghdad were invited to different locales to see what was going on. In Mahkmur, a rural village in the province of Ninewa in northern Iraq, a media day focused on adults in the area learning to read and write, in order to get better jobs. "The higher-paying jobs already exist," Meyers said, "but without the education level to support them, it's like asking someone to climb a ladder with the first couple of rungs missing."
In Balad, in the province of Salah Ah Din, a media event highlighted new construction jobs, which pay between $300 and $350 a month, depending on a worker's skills. "The idea behind the project is for the Iraqis to learn a new skill and break the cycle of poverty," Meyers said. "By informing the world of the Iraqi successes, it will be harder to let them slip back into the black hole that they've worked so hard to overcome."
Cultural differences came into play, Meyers said, because things Americans don't think twice about, like sitting cross-legged, can be construed as serious insults. "You have to be very careful when sitting," Meyers explained. "You know how you want to be comfortable, so you cross your foot over your knee. You just don't do that — the bottom of the sole of the shoe is the biggest insult."
In December, Meyers was transferred from Iraq to Germany, where he had previously been stationed. While he still has not been able to make it back to Long Island for a visit, his family is relieved that he's out of the war zone. "He hasn't been around for the holidays for years because he went from college into the service," said his mother. "You miss him — if he isn't in Iraq, it's someplace else."
Mary said that she depended on the support of her friends and family while Daniel was in Iraq, mainly her sister Rose Giannetta of Rockville Centre. "It's nerve-racking to have someone you love overseas," Giannetta said. "You're proud of them, because they're doing a great service for us, but you do worry."
Every Friday Giannetta heads to Mass to pray. Daniel has told her he takes comfort in knowing she is there, thinking about him. "I think the main thing is to have hope," Giannetta said. "To keep hope and faith strong and be thankful for what they're doing over there."
Mary Meyers said that while today's soldiers get more recognition, it doesn't really make it easier for families to adjust. "It's like being a doctor — you're on call 24/7," she said. "People might not look at it that way, but it is. Vacations get canceled. You get cut away from your family. It's hard."
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