Shadow Warriors: Inside the Special Forces

At precisely 0045 hours, two EF-111 aircraft jammed PDF tactical communications, special operations EC-130s began to override Panamanian radio and TV stations and broadcast the U.S. message to the Panamanian people, and all units began engaging their targets.

Special Forces snipers, who had painstakingly worked their way into strategic ovcrwatch positions, also began systematically to eliminate PDF sentries with highly accurate sniping. The sniper teams were led by Sergeant Major Pat Hurley (later killed in the Gulf War in a nighttime helicopter crash during a raging sandstorm as he was returning from a behind-the-lines mission in Iraq).

At the Modelo Prison (part of the fifteen-building Comandancia compound), the assault was under way to rescue Kurt Muse. Six operators from Task Force Green (the Army special mission unit), supported by AH-6 Little Bird gunships and OH-6 lift ships, made the short jump from the pods of their helicopters down to the rooftop. During their approach to the prison, the gunships cleaned off four.50-caliber machine guns from the roof of a high-rise in the compound that housed one of Noriega's Dignity Battalions. An AC-130 gunship blasted the Comandancia with its 105mm howitzer. Green tracers from PDF guns were flying everywhere.

The operators entered from the roof and moved through the totally dark building down to the second floor, neutralized the guards as they went, blew the cell door, and were back on the roof ready to lift off with their "precious cargo" (now outfitted with a flak vest and Kevlar helmet) — all within six minutes.

A few moments later, Wayne Downing called Stiner on the hot line. "We got our man," Downing said, "but the helicopter may have been shot down as it was lifting off the roof."

"When you get it sorted out, let me know what the situation is."

Downing called back in less than five minutes. "Don't know whether the helicopter was shot down or whether it just had too much weight to lift off the building. It appears that it sort of fell off the building and came down on the street. I am arranging a rescue operation now, and will keep you posted."

Downing had been both an armor brigade and a Ranger Regiment Commander, and brought some unique skills to the mission. As a Ranger, he emphasized surprise, agility, and cunning, but he also appreciated the speed and overwhelming firepower of armor. During the planning, he'd been assigned the mechanized infantry battalion for the assault on the Comandancia and Carcelo Modelo, and for that mission received the platoon of Sheridan light tanks and the Marine Corps LAVs. From this force, he tailored a quick-reaction element; LAVs and armored personnel carriers would carry his highly trained special mission forces — some of whom had never been in an armored vehicle. No problem, they were Special Forces and adaptable. Major Howard Humble, a former mechanized infantry company commander in Germany, and now an SF officer, got the force organized and moving into the streets of Panama City that night and led them with distinction for the next five days.

Downing called this force his "Panzer Gruppe" and positioned it as a reaction force at various places in the city. It could go faster than helicopters, hit places they couldn't, and could be broken up into several elements for greater flexibility (to find their way around Panama City, they used a map they got from a gas station). The APCs'.50-caliber and 20mm machine guns were small beer in a major war, but in fights against lightly armed forces inside a city, they provided tremendous firepower.

One of the Panzer Gruppe elements was sent to rescue Muse and his rescuers. Once they'd picked them up, they first took them to a junior high school for transloading to a helicopter, and then on to the field hospital at Howard Air Force Base for treatment. Here it was learned what had happened: The helicopter carrying Muse and his rescuers had been overloaded and caught a skid on a power line, causing it to crash in the street. Once down, the pilot had been able to move the helo to a parking lot, from where he'd attempted to take off. The hclo had gotten about thirty feet off the ground when it was shot down, landing on its side. Three operators had been injured in the crash, including one already shot in the leg. The'd formed a perimeter to protect Muse and had been engaged in an intense firefight until they'd been rescued.

At about the same time all this was happening, heavy fire at the Comandancia brought down a second special operations helicopter, which crash-landed inside the compound and slid up against the security fence surrounding the Comandancia headquarters. Though neither pilot was injured, they knew they couldn't last long in the withering fire. They jumped out of what was left of the aircraft, threw their flight vests on the fence, climbed over, and crawled beneath a portico that covered an entranceway.

As they huddled there, a PDF soldier — perhaps the first prisoner of the war — came crawling out of the grass with his hands over his head. "I want to go with you," he called out in broken English. They took him in.

A Panzer Gruppe squad rescued all three.

The following morning, a third light observation helicopter was shot down and went into the Canal on the Atlantic side. Unfortunately the crew was lost.

At H-hour, the four Sheridan tanks and an AC-130 pounded the Comandancia's main headquarters and the PDF barracks, while the lead hattalion of the 193rd Brigade moved down Fourth of July Avenue, turned left into a street dominated by high-rise buildings, and began its assault into the compound. The way ahead of them was blocked by heavy trucks and other obstacles, and most of the PDF they could see were wearing civilian clothes — mainly Levis. It was clear they'd been alerted in advance — they planned to fight for a while and then fade into the populace in civilian clothes when the going got tough.

Some of the heaviest fighting of the operation followed.

The lead battalion pushing through with their APCs instantly came under very heavy fire from windows, ledges, and rooftops, and from civilian vehicles sandbagged as fighting positions. For the next two hours, heavy fighting continued. By 3:00 A.M., the Comandancia was on fire, with smoke so thick the Sheridans could not see their targets, but the 193rd had formed a cordon around the compound and begun operations to clear each building.

As a result of a PSYOPs broadcast that designated a local street for safe passage, six truckloads of PDF had surrendered; but the three security companies remaining inside the compound were still putting up stiff resistance.

Since he had no idea what to expect once his troops got inside the Comandancia, Stiner decided to bring in a Ranger company the following afternoon to do the detailed search of the building. The company was from 3rd Ranger Battalion and had jumped the night before with the 1st Ranger Battalion for the H-hour assault on Torrijos-Tocumen International Airport.

As PDF and Dignity Battalions fled the area outside the cordoned compound, they set fire to the nearby slum of Chorillo to slow the advance of the U.S. troops.

At H-hour, another Task Force Bayonet battalion, the 1st Battalion, 508th airborne infantry, launched an assault against Fort Amador less than two miles away, with the aim of neutralizing the PDF's 5th Infantry Company. Since Fort Amador was a treaty-designated "joint use" post — with both Panamanians and Americans living or working there — this would be a delicate operation. The PDF occupied all the buildings on the south side of the facility, near the Canal, while American military families lived directly across the golf course fairway — among them, Marc Cisneros and his family. Cisneros was well-known and respected by most Panamanians, and for this reason Noriega hated him. Cisneros played a large part in the coming action.

"This was the first time in my military career," Carl Stiner recalls, "that family members of U.S. servicemen would find themselves without warning right in the middle of a combat environment."

Because it was the Christmas holiday season, the PDF had set up life-size nativity scenes near their barracks — but nativity scenes with a difference, with machine-gun positions established directly beneath each of them. The guns pointed directly across the fairway at the quarters of the U.S. military families.

The battalion commander's attack plan called for infiltrating most of his headquarters company onto the installation before H-hour. At H-hour, two rifle companies, augmented by a 105mm howitzer, would conduct an air assault directly behind the quarters area occupied by U.S. families. As they landed, they would immediately establish a security perimeter around the U.S. housing area and then attack the PDF barracks less than a hundred yards away, one company from the north, and the other from the south.

OPERATION JUST CAUSE 20 DECEMBER 1989-31 JANUARY 1990

Another company from the battalion would secure the Balboa Yacht Club on the south side of the peninsula and directly behind the PDF barracks. The Club was a frequent gathering place for PDF officers, and several boats of the PDF Navy were usually docked nearby.

Once the assault troops were in position, and the families warned to take cover, the battalion commander was ready to launch his operation. He decided to hold off on building-clearing operations, however, until he'd tried PSYOPs. From time to time, he fired the howitzer on vacant buildings — to make sure the PDF knew he was there and meant business — while his broadcast teams sent out a surrender message. At first light, building-clearing operations would police up anyone left.

It didn't take much persuasion. Moments after the howitzer started firing, PDF were bolting out of their buildings and down to the water, throwing in their weapons. A total of 140 PDF surrendered or were captured. Moments after that, the night was quiet — except for the broadcasts and the occasional firing of the howitzer.

The next day, clearing proceeded, punctuated by sporadic sniping. That ended at 3:00 P.M., when Marc Cisneros talked the last sixteen holdouts in the gymnasium into surrendering. Fort Amador was secure.

During interrogations, it was learned that most PDF officers had abandoned their troops even before H-hour and left them to defend themselves. On the whole, PDF officers were a bad lot. Most were on the take and skimming the pay from their soldiers.

Meanwhile, the company securing the Balboa Yacht Club launched its operation. In attempting to escape, many PDF troops had disguised themselves as waiters, but their combat boots gave them away, and forty-seven prisoners were captured.

No one who knew anything at all about Manuel Noriega had serious questions about his character. He was a seriously evil human bcing-right up there with Saddam I Iussein in the bad guy department. Blessedly, accidents of birth had placed him in a small, weak country, which limited his evildoing opportunities. That said, no American involved in Operation JUST CAUSE had any idea how bad Noriega really was until searches of his residences and offices began to reveal the depths of his degradation.

At Fort Amador, Noriega maintained a set of offices, which U.S. forces searched at about noon. Marc Cisneros was there to make sure this was done properly. Carl Stiner describes some of the "delights it contained:

"In Noriega's desk, in the top right-hand drawer, they found some of the rawest, most hideously disgusting pornographic videos you can imagine. In the left-hand drawer were photo portfolios of PDF atrocities against political prisoners — pictures of tortures, castrations, beatings, flayings, executions, mass rapes, and much worse. On a wall was a life-size silhouette target — President Bush and Marc Cisneros with bullet holes through their heads.

"We found similar materials at the offices of many high-ranking Noriega henchmen."

TASK FORCE WHITE

Task Force White, commanded by Navy SEAL Captain "John," consisting primarily of Navy SEAL Special Boat units, was also carrying out its three major H-hour missions, to: take out of action Noriega's personal yacht and the PDF patrol boats in Balboa Harbor, at the Pacific Ocean entrance to the Canal; block the runway at Paitilla Airport in downtown Panama City; and isolate PDF forces at Flamenco Island, a mile or so out in the Bay of Panama.

Two hours before H-hour, a pair of dive teams in combat rubber raiding craft left Rodman Naval Station for Pier 18 in Balboa Harbor, where Noriega's yacht was docked. A fire support team, armed with.50-caliber machine guns and a 40mm grenade launcher, came along in another boat, just in case they ran into trouble. The boats moved slowly and quietly, without a wake, until they reached the drop-off point about 150 meters from the yacht. The divers entered the water carrying two twenty-pound charges in haversacks, then swam at a depth of twenty feet, following a compass heading. The two teams of four divers arrived beneath the yacht thirty minutes before H-hour, placed their charges on the two main propeller shafts, and connected them with det cord. They set the timers to explode at 0045—H-hour.

Just as they finished, the yacht's engine started; the divers raced away and hid behind the pilings at Pier 17. Moments later, their charges went off, and they had to hang on for dear life during the buffeting that followed. As soon as things got calm, they swam underwater back across the Canal to the rendezvous point. The yacht was out of action.

At H-hour, three platoons of SEALs-ninety-three men-were landing at the southern end of Paitilla Airfield in combat rubber raiding craft. Moving slowly and deliberately, covering each other as they went, two platoons headed north on the western side of the field; the third and a mortar section moved on the eastern side.

As they approached the hangar where Noriega's jet was parked, the lead team, on the western side, came under intense fire from the hangars, killing one SEAL and wounding others. Worse, they were in the open and exposed, and their supporting AC-130 gunship could not fire without endangering the wounded. The second platoon on the western side was ordered in as reinforcement. When it arrived, the PDF opened up again; the SEALs' M-16s had little effect against the PDF, who were firing from concrete block buildings.

The battle lasted for another thirty minutes, but by using 66mm LAWs and 40mm grenade launchers, the SEALs finally prevailed, and disabled Noriega's jet. In the process, three SEALs had died and several others had been severely wounded.

The third Task Force White mission was to isolate Flamenco Island, the home of the USEAT, Noriega's elite special operations force. The best way to keep the USEAT out of the fight was to block the causeway from Panama City to the island, which was done by special boat patrols.

The SEALs and special boat units accomplished other important maritime work as well, not only in the Canal but also in the anchorages in the Caribbean and Pacific where ships were waiting to transit. Several of these vessels were boarded in stirring fashion, as the SEALs chased down the Noriega infrastructure and Dignity Battalions.

On one raid, Captain "Rick's" special-mission SEALs were in hot pursuit of some Dignity Battalion thugs attempting to board a ship at anchor at the Colon dock. Supporting the SEALs were fast-attack vessels, and one of them caught the Dignity Battalion guys climbing the captain's ladder and calmly shot the ladder off its stanchion supports with highly accurate 40mm grenade fire. The thugs landed in the water and were quickly policed up by the SEALs.

TASK FORCE BLACK

Task Force Black was commanded by special forces Colonel Jake Jacobelly, an old hand in Latin America and Panama.

Major Higgins, a tall, thin West Pointer, who spoke fluent Spanish, with twenty-four special forces officers and NCOs, had the mission to secure the Pacora River bridge and block Battalion 2000.

As his troops were loading onto three Blackhawks at Albrook Air Base, intelligence came in that a convoy had left Fort Cimarron, headed for Torrijos-Tocumen. The team quickly finished loading and raced for the bridge. Fifteen minutes later, they could see the PDF convoy's headlights as the pilots swung around and landed about a hundred meters from the southwest end of the bridge. The team dismounted, climbed the bank up to the road, and ran as hard as they could to secure the bridge before the convoy began crossing.

When they reached it, the lead vehicle was no more than a hundred meters away. While the team rushed to establish security positions on each side of the road, an officer and two NCOs fired a 66mm light antitank weapon, a more powerful AT-4, and a squad automatic weapon at the lead vehicle, stopping it in its tracks.

Meanwhile, the Air Force combat controller called in the AC-130 gunship on station in their area, and it was overhead within minutes. The pilot had an easy time identifying the convoy, since it never occurred to them to turn their lights off; but even without lights, infrared equipment made the vehicles and personnel visible. Before engaging, the pilot warned Higgins that his troops guarding the southwest side of the bridge were in his marginal safety limits: Would he accept friendly casualties? Higgins told him to go ahead, and the AC-130 started blasting away. As it fired, it illuminated the area with its infrared searchlight, so the SF personnel could see with their night-vision gear.

The PDF soldiers scrambled out of the trucks and took up firing positions in a treeline.

By 0200 hours, the AC-130 was running low on fuel and had to go off station; another AC-130 immediately moved in.

In the meantime, the PDF, wearing gas masks and using riot-control gas, charged the bridge, but the fire from Higgins's men broke the charge, and a number of PDF jumped over the side in desperation.

By dawn, the fighting had subsided, and Higgins's little force were undisputed masters of the bridge — with no casualties. Meanwhile, a quick-reaction force (QRF) from Task Force Black arrived by helicopter and landed on the other side of the bridge to make a sweep of the destroyed convoy; the team that had been fighting all night remained in position as security.

On the bridge, they found eight dead and several others wounded, who were treated by Special Forces medics at the scene; they found and captured several other PDF hiding in a house off the road; and the few who escaped later ran into the Rangers and the 82nd Airborne Division at the airport.

During interrogations, it was learned that the convoy had been transporting more than fifty soldiers from Battalion 2000's heavy weapons company, led by the company executive officer, and armed with 81 mm mortars, 90mm recoilless weapons, and 30-caliber machine guns. According to the executive officer, they were on their way to Panama City to put down "some sort of civil disturbance."

Later that morning, a two-and-a-half-ton truck flying a white flag arrived from Fort Cimarron to claim their dead.

At 3:45 P.M., a scout platoon from the 82nd Airborne Division on the way to Fort Cimarron linked up with Higgins and his men.

At 5:30 P.M., Higgins and his twenty-four Green Berets and twenty POWs were extracted by helicopter back to Albrook Air Force Base. Mission accomplished.

Jake Jacobelly's Special Forces teams from Task Force Black conducted three other essential H-hour missions or follow-on activities:

Tinajitas Recon for the 82nd Airborne: At 7:00 P.M. the previous evening, a four-man reconnaissance team had started cross-country on foot to place eyes on the Tinajitas Cuartel (Barracks), the 1st Infantry company, and the nest of sixteen mortars near Tinajitas. The team was in position by 1:00 A.M., and reported their findings to General Kinser at the 82nd command post for relay to Jim Johnson as he approached his airdrop. They passed reports on the mortars directly to Stiner's headquarters.

Cimarron Cuartel: At 9:00 P.M. the previous evening, another four-man reconnaissance team had been inserted by Blackhawk five kilometers outside the Cimarron Cuartel to report on Battalion 2000. This team reported the convoy movement toward the Pacora River bridge.

Cerro Azul TV 11 Antennae: The jamming and override broadcast beginning at 12:45 A.M. had successfully overridden all but one TV station — TV Station II, Noriega's primary media outlet. When attempts to jam it proved unsuccessful, an eighteen-man SF team was deployed just after H-hour to disable it temporarily.

The obvious way to disable a TV station is to knock down the antenna tower, but Stiner's people only wanted the station off the air for days, not months. For that reason, the team fast-roped from helicopters onto the station compound and removed a critical electronics module.

TASK FORCE ATLANTIC

Task Force Atlantic, on the Caribbean side of the Canal, was commanded by Colonel Keith Kellogg, and consisted of two infantry battalions, a two-hundred-man aviation section with Huey helos and Cobra gunships, a Vulcan air defense weapons section, an MP company, and an engineer company. One of the battalions — the 3rd Battalion, 504th Infantry — was actually from the 82nd Airborne Division. It had arrived on December 10 to attend the Jungle Operations Training Center as part of a normal training rotation, which it was scheduled to complete before Christmas. The battalion was not aware that its graduation exercise would involve combat.

Task Force Atlantic had several complex missions, to: isolate and clear Colon; neutralize the PDF 8th Infantry Company, stationed at Fort Espinar in Colon; neutralize the PDF 1st Marine Battalion at the Coco Solo Naval Station, cast of Colon; disable the multiengine aircraft on France Field, just south of Coco Solo; capture the PDF patrol boats at the ports; protect the Madden Dam; seize the electrical distribution center at Cerro Tigrc; secure the vital Gatun Locks; and free political prisoners, including Americans, now held in El Renacer prison, midway across the isthmus.

None of these was easy. Fort Espinar and Coco Solo were both joint-use facilities, with U.S. military dependents living next to PDF soldiers. Coco Solo had once housed the School of the Americas and was a particularly complex target, because the Cristobal High School and the Coco Solo Hospital were also located there. The PDF force at Coco Solo, the Panamanian Naval Infantry Battalion, was noted for arrogance.

At H-hour, loudspeakers from C Company, 4th Battalion, 17th Infantry broadcast surrender messages to the PDF Naval Infantry Battalion at Coco Solo; the offer was refused, and the PDF countered with a heavy volume of fire from their barracks area. Their defiance did not last long. After they were given the chance to observe the total destruction of their headquarters buildings by the Vulcan weapons systems and realized their barracks was next, the white flag began waving.

After this demonstration of U.S. firepower, clearing Colon turned out to be far easier than expected. Instead of stiff resistance, the 3rd Brigade entered the city of 60,000 on December 22 with the majority of its two battalions and was met by thousands of cheering Panamanians. Four hundred PDF soldiers, mainly from the 8th Infantry Company, surrendered during the clearing operation.

The Renacer prison, located on a peninsula in the Canal, consisted of an outer layer of buildings, guard towers, and Cyclone fences; and an inner layer — the actual prison — consisting of two large concrete block buildings within an inner fence. This was guarded by twenty to twenty-five troops from Battalion 2000, intermixed with the prisoners and living in the same buildings — which made the prisoner rescue even more difficult.

The rescue mission was assigned to C Company of the 82nd's 3rd Battalion, 504th Infantry: An amphibious force of two rifle platoons would come down the Canal in a pair of Army landing craft — a two-hour ride from Fort Sherman, near Colon — and neutralize the prison's outer ring of defense and provide fire support for the platoon that was to be landed inside the prison compound. Cobra helicopters would take out the guard towers, while another rifle platoon in Huey helicopters landed inside the prison compound.

Although the plan worked perfectly, it was not easy. The defenders put up a strong fight, using CS (tear) gas as well as light weapons, but by 6:00 A.M., the prison was in U.S. hands, and the prisoners — two American journalists, five political prisoners from the March '88 coup attempt, and fifty-seven actual criminals — were unharmed.

Task Force Atlantic now controlled all its assigned objectives. Elements of the Task Force handled their other assignments as planned.

TASK FORCE SEMPER FI

Task Force Semper Fi, under Colonel Charles E. Richardson, had a very broad mission, all in the areas just west of the Canal, to: secure and protect Howard Air Force Base, the U.S. Navy ammunition depot, Rodman Naval Station, and the Arraijan tank farm; secure and defend the Bridge of the Americas; block PDF reinforcements from the southwest, and neutralize the PDF and Dignity Battalions in zone; capture the PDF stations at Vera Cruz and Arraijan; and neutralize the headquarters of the 10th Military Zone in La Chorrera, fifteen miles west of Panama City. The task force accomplished all its missions.

TORRIJOS-TOCUMEN AIRPORT

On the military — Torrijos — side of the airfield were stationed approximately two hundred soldiers of the PDF 2nd Rifle Company, armed with three.50-caliber machine guns and a ZPU-4 antiaircraft gun, 150 men of the Panamanian Air Force, and thirty airport security guards.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert Wagner and the 1st Battalion, 75th Rangers, had the mission to neutralize these forces and secure the Ceremi PDF military recreation center at the La Siesta Military Resort hotel, a quarter mile away. Meanwhile, C Company of the 3rd Ranger Battalion would secure the civilian terminal. Because the 82nd Airborne Division brigade was jumping forty-five minutes behind them, and Battalion 2000 was only forty-live minutes up the road (if they could successfully cross the Pacora River bridge), the Rangers had a very brief time window. They had to work fast.

At precisely 0100 hours — even as the Brazilian airliner was unloading at the main terminal — an AC-130 gunship engaged the 2nd Infantry Company's machine-gun and antiaircraft positions, and an AH-6 gunship began firing at the company compound's guard shack and another guard shack in front of the civilian terminal, eliminating the PDF guards.

Five minutes earlier, five C-141s from the States had heavy-dropped twelve jeeps, twelve motorcycles, and two HMMWVs on the Tocumen drop zone. Three minutes after the AC-130 began firing, seven more C- 141s dropped Wagner and his battalion, followed immediately by C Company of the 3rd Ranger Battalion, dropping from four C-130s. More than seven hundred Rangers had landed in minutes, 150 of them on the tarmac by the main terminal. Many passengers from the Brazilian jet were welcomed to Panama by their "privileged" view of parachutes falling all around their airplane.

The Ranger battalion assembled, moved on foot out to their objectives, and quickly overwhelmed the resistance offered by the 2nd Infantry Company. The psychological impact of the AC-130 was too much for the PDF defenders; most tried to escape, including forty helicopter pilots in a barracks at Torrijos. When they looked out their windows and saw parachuting Rangers, they took off to the hills. They surrendered five days later, on Christmas Day.

C Company's plan was to move three platoons into the terminal from different directions, then each platoon would cover one of the floors; their frequent rehearsals had not, however, prepared them for an airliner unloading 376 passengers. That meant their immediate priority was the passengers' safety.

The Rangers entering the building found most of the passengers in the terminal waiting area — and no PDF. The building was dark. Power was knocked out by a grenade thrown into the terminal's generator by the Rangers. The Rangers continued clearing operations wearing night-vision goggles.

Most of the doors on the first floor were locked, and the Ranger squad moved on until they found a steel door that opened. The lead clement stepped inside, somebody fired a shot, and a woman started screaming in English, "Don't shoot!"

The Rangers pulled back to take stock. There were obviously hostages and PDF inside, but it was hard to tell how many.

A Ranger sergeant wearing night-vision goggles slipped back inside and saw what looked to be four hostages — two American women and a Panamanian woman and her baby — and maybe a dozen PDF soldiers.

The sergeant came out to report, just as the company commander was arriving, prepared to talk sense to the PDF, but when that didn't work, he made an ultimatum, "Come out or you'll all be killed," at which point the PDF put down their weapons and came out. None of the hostages was hurt.

As the 3rd Platoon approached the terminal, PDF fired at them through a plateglass window. The platoon raced into the building and isolated the PDF in a men's room. The squad leader moved inside to take a look, but PDF hiding in the stalls shot him three times. His troops dragged him out and tossed in two hand grenades, but the PDF were protected by the metal stall doors. The Rangers then made a concerted assault. As they entered the room, a PDF shot one of them three times in the head (his Kevlar helmet saved him); the Rangers then killed two PDF; another PDF soldier jumped out of a stall and tried to snatch a Ranger weapon; another Ranger shot him in the head and killed him; another PDF jumped out and grabbed a Ranger around the neck; they slammed each other up against the wall and fought hand to hand. The Ranger kicked the PDF through a window, and he landed one floor down in front of a Ranger private who had just taken up a firing position with an M-60 machine gun. Caught by surprise, he cut the PDF soldier in half as he tried to pull a pistol.

Two and a half hours after the jump, Torrijos Tocumen airport was secured.

Inside the terminal, the Rangers separated detainees — civilian passengers from the Brazilian airliner — from the prisoners, and flex-cuffed (using flexible plastic handcuffs) the prisoners. The detainces were asked to wait in the terminal until order was restored. When some of the children became hungry a few hours later, the Rangers arranged a meal with the restaurant manager and paid for it themselves.

At 2:08 A.M., the first 82nd Airborne troopers began dropping on their drop zones — twenty-three minutes late because of the ice storm at Fort Bragg. The rest of the drop was also delayed by the storm, but the entire 82nd was finally on the ground by 5:15 A.M.

By 10:00 A.M., the 82nd had assumed responsibility for the security of the airfield.

Later, it was learned from one of Noriega's bodyguards that a Ranger roadblock near Torrijos-Tocumen had narrowly missed capturing the dictator — and saving the United States a lot of trouble. Here is how it happened:

The day before, after Noriega's entourage from Colon had split and a decoy had gone on to the Comandancia, Noriega had been taken to the rest camp at Ceremi for a date with a prostitute. By the time he got there, he was reportedly in less than total control, having consumed about two fifths of scotch by then.

The first inklings that his country was being invaded came when he heard the AC-130 and attack helicopters firing on Torrijos-Tocumen, soon followed by the roar of transports dropping Rangers.

Moments after the firing started, Noriega ran out of the hotel, wearing nothing but his red bikini underwear, and jumped into the back of his car. "The Americans are after me!" he cried. "Let's get out of here."

Down the road, they ran into the Ranger roadblock.

"My God," he screamed, "they know where I am! They dropped these guys right on top of me!"

When a car ahead of them hit the roadblock and began drawing fire from the Rangers, Noriega's car made a quick 180-degree turnaround and took a back road into Panama City. Afterward, Noriega was so "shook," it took a day to get him calmed down.

At one time that first night, the JSOTF had 171 aircraft in the skies over Panama City. No one had a midair collision, and no one ran out of fuel. The AC-130 gunships kept twenty-four-hour coverage for ninety-six straight hours, using their sensors, weapons, and searchlights to intimidate the PDF and support the SF, Rangers, SEALs, and the conventional forces.

USAF special operations forces in Panama — the 1st Special Operations Wing (SOW) — were commanded by Colonel (later Major General) George Gray and composed of MH-53J Pave Low helos, AC-130 gunships, MH- 60G Blackhawks with refuel probes, MC-13 °Combat Talon aircraft for air-drop and penetration of heavily defended airspace, and EC-130 aircraft used for PSYOPs, radio, and TV.

RIO HATO

While the 1st Ranger Battalion was parachuting down on Torrijos-Tocumen, the other two battalions of the 75th Regiment were making a parachute assault at Rio Hato, west of Panama City.

They had launched seven hours earlier from Fort Benning, Georgia, in seventeen C-130s of the 317th airlift wing, stationed at Pope Air Force Base. Each of the first fifteen aircraft was crammed with sixty-five Rangers (C-130s normally carried fifty-two fully loaded troops), jammed tighter than rush-hour subways. Forget about moving. Forget about walking down the aisle to a "toilet." Five-gallon cans were passed around under people's legs. Because there wasn't room to rig, everyone had donned their equipment before boarding. Each Ranger carried on his lap a sixty-to-one-hundred-pound rucksack loaded with ammunition and supplies — including at least one 66mm light antitank weapon (LAW). As it turned out, the LAWs came in very handy.

At H-hour, F-117 stealth bombers dropped two 2,000-pound bombs, with time-delay fuses, 150 meters from the 6th and 7th Company barracks. For the next three minutes, Apache helicopters, AH-6 helicopter gunships, and an AC-130 gunship fired on antiaircraft weapons positions around the airfield.

At H+3 minutes, the lead C-130 crossed the drop zone at 500 feet, trailed immediately by the C-130s dropping the Rangers, followed shortly by two C-130s dropping four jeeps and four motorcycles.

As the Rangers started their descent, they could see green machine gun tracers crossing the drop zone — or worse, whizzing up toward them. Thirteen of the fifteen C-130s received multiple hits. And a few Rangers were also hit as they descended. The bombs and the preparatory fire had had an effect — two hundred cadets were later found hiding under their bunks — but not enough. Most of the PDF 6th and 7th Companies had managed to deploy around the airfield, and were coming at the landing Rangers in CG-150 armored cars and other military vehicles with machine guns blasting; a.50-caliber machine gun on the rock archway at the main gate raked the drop zone.

From all indications, they had been alerted before the attack, and they were good soldiers. They did what good soldiers do.

The Rangers did not take this quietly; Rangers arc as passive as blow-torches. As they slipped out of their chutes and assembled for their assaults, they fired at the PDF vehicles with their LAWs, and knocked several out even before moving on to their assigned assault objectives. They knocked out three trucks this way, one of them a fuel tanker that burned for hours.

In one of the stranger moments of that night, a Ranger's parachute was snagged by a fleeing PDF two-and-a-half-ton truck, which dragged him across the drop zone, with the Ranger yelling for help. His call was answered when a comrade coolly put a LAW rocket into the truck cab at 150 meters — a long shot for a moving target.

While all this was happening, Colonel Buck Kernan, the Ranger regimental commander, was single-handedly shutting down power at the airfield — though not exactly on purpose.

During his descent, he'd passed through the field's power lines. When he landed, his parachute was tangled in the lines and in flames. As he pulled the chute free, he dragged a light pole onto the power lines supplying the camp — shorting out the entire airfield complex. He quickly detached from his parachute harness, and found himself on the edge of the bullfighting ring in the center of the camp.

Meanwhile, the regimental sergeant major, Chief Sergeant Major Leon Guerrero, who had jumped after Kernan, was floating down above him watching all of this, worried that the colonel was badly injured. But when he saw Kernan climb out of the ring and had determined his boss was okay, the only thing he could do was break into laughter. Kernan instantly took charge and rallied his troops.

Colonel Kernan's plan for the takedown for Rio Hato called for two AC- 130 gunships, one Army Apache, and two AH-6 helicopter gunships to be orbiting near Rio Hato before the troop-carrying C-130s arrived. At precisely 0100 hours, they engaged known antiaircraft weapons positions and other preselected targets in the Rio Hato complex, with great results. The Rangers started dropping at precisely 0103 hours.

Once on the ground, 2nd/75th Ranger Battalion had the mission of neutralizing the 6th and 7th PDF Companies, while 3rd/75th Ranger isolated the airfield, cleared the NCO Academy, the camp headquarters, the communications center, the motor pool, and the airfield operating complex.

Although the complex was defended by some of Noriega's elite, these were no match for Rangers. Once on the ground, the Rangers attacking assigned objectives with platoon- and squad-size elements quickly overwhelmed the PDF, killing 34 and capturing 278, along with thousands of weapons.

After an hour and fifty-three minutes of tough, close-quarters fighting, Rio Hato was secured, resistance had ceased, and supply aircraft had started landing.

One Ranger mission was to search Noriega's "Farralon" beach house on the airfield's southern approach to the airfield. It was unoccupied. Rangers from Lieutenant Colonel Al Maestas' 2d Ranger Battalion found the large double-glass door locked. The Rangers debated how to enter the luxurious home. Their solution? They backed off and shot a LAW rocket into the door, shattering it into nano-pieces. (Troops in the JSOTF later called LAWs "the Ranger key.")

Again, vast quantities of pornography were found.

Turning LAWs into an entry device is typical of Rangers. They are not subtle. Several days later, the Rangers moved into Panama City and began establishing checkpoints and traffic control.

About 10:30 one night, a Ranger squad was manning a major intersection. This checkpoint had been set up with typical Ranger efficiency, and in depth. The block was manned by three Rangers, supported in overwatch by a 90mm recoilless rifle and an M-60 machine gun.

A car approached, slowed, then accelerated and burst through the barriers.

No screwing around with the Rangers. The 90mm immediately engaged, the sedan exploded with a direct hit, and the M-60 hosed down the flaming wreck just to make sure. Inside were PDF soldiers, all dead, and several open bottles of whiskey. They'd been drunk when they ran the block.

The story quickly made the rounds of the JSOTF. Somebody drew a cartoon poster of a Ranger gunner destroying a sedan; its caption read: "RADD! — Rangers Against Drunk Drivers."

TASK FORCE PACIFIC

Though the ice storm at Pope Air Force Base had taken its toll, the twenty heavy-drop and three CDS birds (C-141s) from Charleston were unaffected, and arrived at Torrijos-Tocumen on schedule at 1:45 A.M. carrying most of the equipment the 82nd would use in Panama: seventy-two HMMWVs, most of them equipped with.50-caliber machine guns; eight Sheridan M-551 armored assault vehicles; four 105mm artillery pieces; and several pieces of engineer equipment. Twenty-six minutes later, eight C-141s arrived with paratroopers. General Johnson, his Division Assault CP, and his brigade and battalion commanders flew in with the first eight birds. An hour after that, five more birds dropped. The last seven dropped at 0515 hours, completing the Division Ready Brigade of more than 2,000 paratroopers.

The first division objective was Panama Viejo in eastern Panama City. Stationed there were the PDF 1st Cavalry Squadron, primarily a ceremonial unit with approximately eighty horses, and a 170-man detachment from Noriega's elite and fiercely loyal special operations antiterrorist unit (USEAT), equipped with V-300 armored assault vehicles and antiaircraft weapons. The job of taking this target had been given to the 2nd Battalion, 504th Infantry.

Since the entire DRB had been cross-loaded among the twenty C-141 personnel birds — normal practice in an airborne operation to spread the risk — and all the arrivals were staggered, the entire 2nd/504th did not assemble for the air assault until most of the personnel planes had dropped. And it was nearly daylight when the first lift of the 2nd/504th launched for Panama Viejo, with eleven Blackhawks carrying thirty-five troopers each, supported by two Cobra gunships and two Apaches. They landed relatively unopposed at 6:45 A.M., and quickly set about establishing a security perimeter around their landing zone.

The second lift landed just to their north, behind the barracks. As the Blackhawks approached the landing zone, they took heavy small-arms fire, and two lift ships were hit. Though the two ships made it back to the pickup zone at Torrijos-Tocumen, they were disabled and out of action. The troops on the lift were also quickly engaged by heavy small-arms fire after they hit the ground.

The third lift arrived without serious opposition and began to push outward.

A total of five hundred troops were now on the ground, and all met resistance — PDF and USEAT wearing civilian clothes, using hit-and-run tactics.

By 11:55 A.M., after suffering heavy casualties, the PDF had melted into the civilian population, and the battalion commander officially declared Panama Viejo secured; but sporadic fighting continued for the rest of the afternoon.

TINAJITAS

Tinajitas, the home of the two-hundred-man 1st Infantry Company, was located on a hilltop six miles north of Panama City and eight miles west of Torrijos-Tocumen, and was surrounded on three sides by the sprawling slum village of San Miguelito, the home of a Dignity Battalion. It was a tough target. Anti-helicopter obstacles had been set up in the garrison's large courtyard; adjacent to the compound were four 120mm mortars, six 81 mm mortars, three 60mm mortars, and a ZPU-4 antiaircraft gun. An AC- 130 had engaged the dug-in position three times during the night.

There was only one way to effectively attack Tinajitas, and that was by landing on a ridgeline 700 meters down the hill. The landing zone would be clearly within the range of the mortars, and the fight would be uphill all the way.

The 1st Battalion, 504th Airborne Infantry, lifted off from Torrijos-Tocumen at 8:00 A.M., preceded by two Apaches and an OH-58 helicopter to overwatch the landing zone. During their initial survey of the area, the fire support element took no ground fire, but as they broke off to lead the approaching lift ships to the LZ, they crossed over San Miguelito and received heavy and effective ground fire. Rather than risk collateral damage to civilians, they did not return the fire, but reported it to the air assault task force commander, then flew to Howard Air Force Base to check the damage.

An escort Apache immediately flew to San Miguelito, located the enemy position, and received permission to engage the target, which was neutralized by salvos of 30mm fire from a distance of 2,800 meters, leaving ten dead PDF soldiers.

The landing zone at Tinajitas turned out to be the hottest encountered by 82nd units. The delay brought on by the ice storm had given the PDF time to set up defenses and inflict casualties. (One Blackhawk took twenty-eight hits but still remained airborne, thanks to its redundant systems.)

As they approached the LZ, the first lift came under automatic-weapons and 81 mm mortar fire from PDF soldiers positioned in buildings to their west and southwest. After landing, as they were deploying in their attack formation, the paratroopers came again under heavy fire, this time from the hilltop and the surrounding barrio. These troops, supported by fire from the two Apaches, attacked the PDF position; heavy fire continued as the second and third lifts came in.

The battalion then fought up the hill, but when they reached the top, the garrison turned out to be abandoned. The PDF had left a stay-behind element to counter the attack, while the rest of the company had withdrawn into the barrio to fight alongside the Dignity Battalion. The stay-behinds slipped away before the paratroopers reached the top.

The battalion later moved into the barrio and neutralized organized resistance.

The battalion commander declared the position secure at 2:30 P.M.

FORT CIMARRON

As of noon on D Day, only one major target remained to be taken — Battalion 2000. But with three companies, eight V-300 armored cars, fourteen mortars, and four 107mm rocket launchers (somewhat attrited during the attempt to cross the Pacora River bridge the night before), it was one of the most demanding targets of the twenty-seven.

At 12:05 P.M., Lieutenant Colonel John Vines, Commander of 4th Battalion, 325th Airborne Infantry, departed for Fort Cimarron in eleven Blackhawks, escorted by Cobra gunships. The assault required two lifts.

After landing, paratroops fanned out into the villages outside the encampment, where they encountered heavy PDF resistance (another consequence of the ice storm delay); five PDF soldiers were killed in the resulting firefights.

When they reached Fort Cimarron, the battalion PSYOPs team broadcast a surrender message; in reply, the PDF inside the cuartel fired on the paratroopers. The battalion commander directed an AC-130 gunship attack on the barracks complex. The gunship fired at the barracks area almost continuously for four hours.

At daylight, when the paratroopers conducted a sweep through the garrison compound, they found it empty. They prepared for a counterattack, but it never came. The survivors of Battalion 2000 had abandoned the garrison, put on their Levi's, and made their way into the city.

Battalion 2000 casualties were heavy.

STABILITY OPERATIONS

U.S. forces broke the PDF — and Noriega's ability to control his forces — during the first hour of combat. By the end of D Day, most of the fighting was over — though Panama was by no means safe. Many of the PDF had changed into Levi's and slipped into the city, where they banded together to continue making trouble.

There was no law and order.

Have-nots, armed bands of hoodlums, Dignity Battalions, and PDF displaced by the fighting — and sometimes a mix of all the above — started looting and causing mayhem.

This had been anticipated by American planners; the Task Force Atlantic and Task Force Pacific division commanders had orders to move into the city and begin stability operations to secure key facilities and mop up resistance.

By dawn of the twentieth, there were already 3,000 refugees in the Balboa High School athletic field, including many PDF who had infiltrated in civilian clothes. There were also 1,500 detainees in a camp being established on a rifle range halfway up the Canal — a number that grew to 4,600 within a week, as more detainees were brought in from the combat units.

Meanwhile, hospitals had to be reopened and sanitation services restarted.

A CBS News poll later determined that 93 percent of the Panamanian people supported U.S. operations — yet the same people had instant expectations that their new government could not soon fulfill, since the removal of Noriega's appointees had decapitated most of the vital institutions.

Though additional units from the 7th Special Forces Group and civil affairs were being brought in to handle these needs, the demand was now, and it could only be satisfied in the near term by the military personnel already on the ground.

The immediate tasks were:

• Mopping up and bringing security to the major cities, particularly Panama City and Colon.

• Neutralizing the PDF and Dignity Battalions in the remainder of Panama.

• Reestablishing law and order.

• Taking care of refugees and displaced persons.

Meanwhile, all major military objectives had been achieved: The PDF had been neutralized, the PDF command and control no longer functioned, Noriega was no longer in control, and the new government had been installed.

On the downside, Noriega had not been captured, and U.S. forces had no idea where to find him.

MA BELL

Throughout D Day, heavy-lift transports had been landing at Howard Air Force Base and Torrijos-Tocumen, bringing in Major General Carmen Cavezza and two additional brigades from the 7th Infantry Division, as well as the 16th MP Brigade from Fort Bragg, to bring stability to Panama City and Colon, while extending operations to the west to neutralize the remaining PDF main force units. The 75th Ranger Regiment could now be "freed up" to join in liberating the west and clearing the area north of Panama City.

On December 20, the new government asked General Thurman to send a force to liberate political prisoners at Penomone Prison, sixty-five miles southwest of Panama City.

Wayne Downing got the call. That morning, he had flown to Rio Hato to visit Buck Kernan and his Rangers. Later that day, Stiner called him: "I want you and Kernan's rangers to conduct a battalion-size air assault tonight to liberate the political prisoners."

Meanwhile, A Company 1st Battalion, 7th SFG, which was already stationed in Panama, was to operate toward the west with the Rangers and the 2nd Brigade of the 7th Division. Later that afternoon, Major Gilberto Perez, the commander, flew his company to Rio Hato, where it would stage for these operations.

Downing and Kernan decided to fly out and take a look at the prison — which turned out to be located in a populated area. Taking it could easily result in collateral damage and civilian casualties. Later, as Downing and Kcrnan prepared the units for the assault, they kept telling themselves, "There has to be a better way to do this."

At about that time, Perez linked up with Downing and Kcrnan. Since he was already familiar with the country, they asked if he had any helpful ideas about liberating Penomone.

"I just happen to know the major who commands the prison," he told them. "So why don't you let me call him? I'll tell him what's about to happen and see if he'll surrender."

"That's a real gamble," Downing said after he and Kcrnan had talked this over. "We have to keep preparing for the assault tonight. But go ahead and call him up, and see what he says."

Perez got on the phone and called the major. "Did you see what happened to the Comandancia last night?" he asked the major in Spanish.

"Yes, it was terrible, wasn't it?" The major answered.

"You're exactly right," Perez said, "and the same thing is going to happen to you tonight."

"What do you mean? "

"The Rangers are planning to assault the prison tonight, but if you are agreeable to their terms, you can avoid loss of life."

"What do they want me to do?"

"You can send someone down here," Perez told him, "and we'll give him the terms and conditions."

"I will come myself. Where are you?"

"At Rio Hato," Perez answered.

The major showed up an hour and a half later, and Downing laid out the terms for surrender: "At eight o'clock tonight, you'll leave enough guards to keep the prisoners under control, march all the rest down to the air strip" — near the prison—"lay down your arms, and raise the white flag.

"To keep you honest, an AC-130 gunship circling overhead will sec your every move, and relay hack to me exactly what you are doing and if you are living up to the terms of the agreement. If you do what I said, no one will get hurt."

The major agreed to the terms and returned to the prison.

Meanwhile, Downing had told Kernan: "Even if this works, I want you to run the operation as planned — except with no gunfire — in order to send the message to the other PDF installations."

At 8:00 that night, Downing and Perez set up an observation post near the prison, Kernan prepared his Ranger battalion for the assault, and the AC-130 watched the prison. A few minutes after 8:00, prison guards were marching down the hill toward the airstrip. At the airstrip, they placed their weapons in a ditch alongside the runway, then got into a formation and raised the white flag.

Downing and Perez accepted the surrender ten minutes before the air assault hit the prison. The awed PDF watched as Little Bird gunships hovered over the prison compound and Rangers fast-roped down. Not one of them believed the major had made the wrong decision.

What happened at Penomone was repeated elsewhere in western Panama, became standard operating procedure, and was known as "Ma Bell."

It worked this way: One of Major Perez's A-Detachments would make contact with a PDF cuartel to find out if the commander was willing to surrender. A rifle company from Colonel Lin Burney's 2nd Brigade, 7th Infantry Division,[29] would fly in to accept the surrender — but was prepared for combat. After surrender, both the A-Detachment and the company would remain as a guard and stabilizing force until the government decided what to do with the cuartel. This was their mission: (1) To secure the cuartel and ensure that no PDF got away. (2) To gather intelligence on the weapons caches of the PDF and Dignity Battalions who had not yet surrendered. (3) To help the local civilian leaders gain control of the town. (4) To assess the local infrastructure — hospital, public utilities, law and order — and establish priorities for follow-on civil-military operations. (5) To conduct joint Panamanian/U.S. patrols throughout the area.

The second and third "Ma Bell" missions secured the cuartels at Santiago and Chitre. Each PDF commander surrendered without resistance, and one of Burney's rifle companies took control.

On Christmas Day, Perez and his team flew into Las Tablas, the capital of Las Santos Province. Perez telephoned the local commander, who willingly surrendered. As Perez and his team were searching the cuartel, a crowd of civilians gathered outside the wall — presenting Perez with an opportunity. He assembled the PDF on the parade field and had his own troops line up beside them. He then called the combined force to attention, ordered "present arms," and had the Panamanian flag raised on the cuartel's flagpole — thus demonstrating that the United States was not a conqueror, but a liberator, and gaining civilian support for follow-on U.S. efforts.

That same day, Lieutenant Colonel Joe I Iunt and his 3rd Battalion of the 75th Rangers air-assaulted into Malek airfield near David, the capital of Chiriqui Province.

David was the home of Lieutenant Colonel Del Cid, who commanded its largest PDF installation. Del Cid was the second-most-powerful man in Panama and a close friend of Noriega's — the man tagged by the dictator to carry out his plan for guerrilla warfare in the mountains. Like Noriega, he had been indicted for drug trafficking.

On December 21, as the Rangers were preparing their air assault against David, Marc Cisneros phoned Del Cid and gave him unconditional surrender terms. The following day, he agreed to the terms, and a white flag appeared over his headquarters. He was picked up by the Rangers on Christmas Day, flown to Howard Air Force Base, and arrested by the DEA. He was then flown to Homestead and on to Miami for arraignment.

Meanwhile, Burney and his brigade provided security and support throughout central and western Panama. As a result of the rapport they established, civilians provided valuable intelligence that helped locate weapons caches, people on the most wanted list, and PDF and Dignity Battalion members who had not yet been captured — and no more than eight shots had been fired in that part of Panama.

Elsewhere, U.S. forces were closing the noose on armed bands of holdouts, and intensifying operations against Dignity Battalions in Panama City.

Until two days into the operation, when documents were captured during a raid on a headquarters, not much was known about this mysterious organization, except that they were baddies — Noriega's control and enforcement force — who had terrorized the people enough to make them afraid even to talk about them.

According to the captured documents, there were eighteen Dignity Battalions, and they were the best paid of Noriega's forces — including quarters for both members and their families. A list of leaders — also provided by the documents — added many names to the most-wanted list.

During the next days, Downing and his special mission units worked tirelessly to uproot and dismantle the Dignity Battalions, and track down their leaders. Their success soon inspired the locals to reveal where Dignity Battalion members were holed up. And by December 23, that threat had pretty much ended.

By then, the equivalent of four combat brigades and fifteen hundred military police had brought stability to Panama City, Colon, and most of the rest of the country, and all the PDF regional commanders had surrendered. One major task remained — capturing Noriega.

THE SEARCH FOR NORIEGA

At H-hour, Wayne Downing launched one of the most intensive manhunts in history, when he went to work to disassemble Noriega's infrastructure (the most-wanted list) and capture the elusive Noriega.

Downing's Panzer Cruppe — now two Sheridan armored reconnaissance vehicles, two U.S. Marine Corps LAVs, five Army APCs, four confiscated PDF two-and-a-half-ton trucks, and an old yellow school bus — together with his air assets, would give him maximum flexibility responding to leads.

Task Force Green, commanded by Colonel "Pete," and Task Force Blue, his Navy special mission unit, commanded by Navy SEAL Captain "Rick," supported by quick reaction helicopters and AC-130 gunships, had been given the difficult job of capturing the Dictator. The first mission of both task forces was to search Noriega's plush apartments and houses scattered throughout Panama. Task Force Green operated within Panama City. Task Force Blue was assigned the Colon area and western Panama.

Wayne Downing continues:

Rolling up the infrastructure accomplished two goals: The Noriega gang was all bad; we had to bring them to justice. And we needed to deny Noriega options. We wanted him to have nowhere to lay his head: And so we went after every Noriega crony and hangout we could find, and we rolled them up.

These people were incredible. There are so many tales, people walking around with thousands of dollars in hundred-dollar bills in their pockets — drug money. And mistresses, girlfriends — we ran into just about anything you can think of. These were dirty people.

Here is an example of how we did it — though it's not exactly typical.

There was one guy that everyone in the neighborhood feared, rich and ruthless, the baddest of the bad; no one dared to speak against him. So our guys went to his place to pick him up.

It was like a movie. They came up and the door was very heavy, very fancy, with a gold doorknob, and locked. So they put a door charge on it, to blow the door open.

Inside, the bad guy was in his living room, where he had built an enormous, 5,000-gallon aquarium; it took up an entire wall and was filled with all kinds of exotic fish. When he heard our troops outside, he panicked and started to run, crouched down and bent over, with his arms protecting his head. That was when they blew the door. The doorknob shot out across the room, drove up into his rectum, and got wedged up there.

Meanwhile, shards from the blown-down door were flying around, and some of them shattered the aquarium. So when our troops came in, they found this bad guy hopping around with a gold doorknob up his rear, and fish flopping all over the floor and stuck to the ceiling. This wasn't intentional — we were sorry for the fish — but it made a story our guys will tell their grandchildren.

A few minutes after all this, the local people were out in the street cheering. Because this guy was so bad.

After a lot of operations like this (most of them not so vivid), the SEALs and Special Forces from the special missions units broke Noriega's infrastructure. And he could not escape. Every place he went, he ran into where we had been. We'd covered every possible safe haven.

Downing's people worked day and night, and they were amazingly successful.

Raids on Noriega's offices and houses had captured almost $8 million in U.S. currency, a briefcase containing a list of bank accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands, and diaries laying out his involvement in witchcraft and voodoo worship. The money and documents were temporarily turned over to SOUTHCOM until a proper place could be found for securing them.

Two days after H-hour, nearly everyone on the most wanted list had been picked up and interrogated. Most of them — looking out for their own skin — cooperated with the interrogators and provided names of other key people in Noriega's infrastructure who had not yet been identified. A list of about a hundred people was developed from this information, and Downing's forces immediately set out to find them.

And yet, by the morning of December 23, Noriega was still missing.

Carl Stiner continues:

The first break came midmorning on December 23 when one of Noriega's inner circle of bodyguards appeared at the main gate at Fort Clayton with a proposition for Marc Cisneros: He had information about Noriega that he would exchange for protection for himself and his family. Though these guys were all real thugs, he got his guarantee, and it was his information that filled in the details of Noriega's movements on the evening before H-hour — his diversion on the way back from Colon, his rendezvous with the prostitute at the Ceremi rest camp, his escape from the Ranger's roadblock.

This was good news. It meant Noriega was still in Panama City; we would continue relentless pressure until he could be cornered. Part of the pressure involved our watching embassies where he might find asylum.

At 8:30 the next morning, another Noriega bodyguard showed up with the same proposition. When he met Cisneros, he said, "I just now slipped away from Noriega and his other bodyguards. He's at the end of his rope, he's taking drugs and alcohol, and he's crazy as hell. He'll kill us all.

"I can tell you where he is, but you have to hurry. They're about to move on. When 1 left, bags were packed. They're driving a blue Montero SUV"

Within minutes, Downing was on the scene with his Panzer Gruppe.

They found the place abandoned, but the coffeepot was still hot, and cigarettes were still burning in the ashtrays. A call to all units was immediately put out to watch for the Montero.

Marc Cisneros and I spent most of the day checking on stability operations, but arranged to return to headquarters at 3:00 P.M. At 3:00, I went directly to my operations center, and Cisneros went to his office on the second floor of the same building. When he got there, he learned he had an urgent phone call from Monsignor Laboa, the Papal Nuncio. This was Laboa's second call; he had something important on his mind. Cisneros took the phone.

"Noriega is here," Laboa whispered, "in the Papal Nunciatore. I called you earlier, hoping you could intercept him. Come over here. I need to talk to you." The Papal Nunciatore was the Vatican's Embassy in Panama City, and had the same immunities as any other embassy recognized by the U.S. government.

Cisneros hurried to me with the news.

"Go ahead and see Laboa," 1 told him. "Call me as soon as you have details. I'll tell General Thurman and Downing."

I immediately called Downing: "We've got a problem," I said. "Noriega's in the Nunciatore — a sanctuary. Get over there right away and take charge of the situation. Secure it."

Then I called Thurman.

Within minutes, Downing had surrounded the Nunciatore with his troops.

The Nunciatore, located in one of the wealthier parts of the city, was a two-story stucco building with a pleasant, well-groomed yard, all surrounded by a seven-foot-high concrete wall.

Meanwhile, I was thinking. "Why the Nunciatore?" I asked myself. "We have been watching the Nicaraguan Embassy, the Cuban Embassy, the Peruvian Embassy, and all the others where we thought he might hole up; but we never considered the Nunciatore. All the same, now we have him; it's just a matter of how to get him out."

Shortly, Cisneros phoned with the Nuncio's story:

Noriega and Captain Guitan, his aide, had called to ask for refuge. "What we want you to do," Noriega demanded, "is pick us up at an ice-cream stand," which he named, "and bring us to the Nunciatore. If you don't, we'll go to the mountains and start a guerrilla war."

Laboa felt he had no choice. He sent a car to pick them up.

"My earlier call," he explained to Cisneros, "was to let you know about the car. I'd hoped U.S. forces would intercept it before it returned to the Nunciatore — and you'd do me a favor if you took your soldiers right now and dragged him out; but unfortunately, that's impossible. We both have to recognize the diplomatic protocols."

"That's fine," I told Cisneros. "Now what I want you to do is find out from Laboa if anyone else has taken asylum in the Nunciatorc, and if they have weapons. And tell him that Downing is establishing a security perimeter around the Nunciatore and will be our man on the scene."

Forty-five minutes later, Cisneros returned to headquarters. "The Nuncio doesn't think Noriega brought weapons with him," he told me, "but he's not sure." We were fairly certain he had weapons, and this complicated matters: We were in a potential hostage situation. "Several others in Noriega's inner circle are also there," Cisneros continued, "as well as a few women, and eight to ten children."

The others turned out to be: Captain Guitan; Colonel Castergen, the Navy Commander; Lieutenant Colonel Velarde, a chaplain; Captain Castillo, Noriega's personal bodyguard; and Colonel Madrinan, Chief of the Department of National Investigation. Five Basque separatist terrorists had also come in with the Noriega gang, on the reasonable assumption that we'd want to pick them up.

By then, Downing had secured the area with Colonel "Pete" and his forces from Task Force Green, and had established his operational center in the elementary school across the street. I called him there: "Tell Laboa that he's in a very dangerous situation, and as far as we're concerned, he violated the Nunciatore's immunities when he went out and fetched an indicted criminal, then brought him inside and provided refuge.

"Advise the Nuncio that he's living in a bed of snakes who could care less about him and could kill him at any time."

We then talked about the best way to get the women and children out of there, in order to simplify the situation.

Downing met Laboa in the elementary school.

"I'll do what I can to help," Laboa said nervously when Downing gave him my message. It had scared him badly.

Then Downing asked, "Will you authorize a rescue operation if we hear shots from inside? We believe Noriega has weapons."

"I can do that," Laboa answered.

"Will you put that in writing?"

"Yes," the Nuncio responded.

"I have two other questions," Downing said: "Will you help us to get the women and children out?"

"Yes, of course."

"And will you and your staff leave after that?"

"No, we can't do that," Laboa replied, then went back inside the Nunciatore.

Thirty minutes later, a priest delivered an envelope with a note typed on Vatican parchment and signed by Laboa that authorized a rescue operation if shots were fired inside the Nunciatore. This was a "get out of jail free" card for Laboa if anything beyond his control happened, but it was also our trump card. If anything did happen, we had authority to conduct an immediate assault. And we had a plan to accomplish it.

I quickly called General Thurman to give him an update. At the same time, I asked him for a change in his rules of engagement to allow an assault if the lives of those inside were in danger. This was approved by SECDEF.

Meanwhile, Downing went to work getting the women and children out, and it turned out they were not the only ones who were eager to leave; several men wanted out as well — all demanding to be flown to Nicaragua, Cuba, or Venezuela.

"We'll see about that," Downing said.

Toward evening. Downing's old yellow Panzer Gruppe school bus rolled up, and about ten men and women and twelve children came out. They were then loaded and taken to a secure location, where they were segregated. The women and children were taken to their homes, and the men were sent to our detention camp.

"I didn't offer them asylum," Downing said when he called me. "I didn't have the authority. I just told them we'd work on it. But what I had to do is get the women and children out; it was a very dangerous situation."

Still inside were Noriega, five of his henchmen, and the five Basque separatists — all bad people, except possibly for the chaplain, who may have stayed inside out of hope to take care of Noriega's spiritual needs.

In the meantime, while we tried to figure out how to get Noriega out of there, we'd begun to discover just how bad Noriega and his crew really were. Downing's task force had added ever more fascinating evidence to what Marc Cisneros had come up with after we captured the PDF side of Fort Amador.

On Christmas Eve, I received a call from Jim Johnson: "We have secured Noriega's main residence in downtown Panama City," he said, "and found things you need to take a look at. I would recommend that you come out tomorrow."

"What did you find?"

"He's heavily involved in witchcraft, for one thing. But that's only a beginning." That caught my attention.

"I'll try to get out there tomorrow morning," 1 told him.

When I dropped all this on my staff at a meeting that night, the J-2 spoke up: "You won't believe this," he announced, "but 1 ran into a warrant officer in the MI Battalion with a master's degree in witchcraft. You need to take him along."

"I didn't even know there was such a degree," I said. "But get him ready to go, and we'll leave tomorrow about eight-thirty."

The next morning, I flew out and linked up with Johnson at Paitilla airfield. From there we were escorted to Noriega's house. When we got there, I had a hard time believing my eyes.

The house was lavishly furnished with gaudy "objets d'art." Large silver pelicans — estimated at about $25,000 each — were all over the place. In the main study was probably the biggest collection of ceramic frogs in the world. In the office was a world-class collection of busts of Hitler; he had at least twenty-five of them. Also in the office was a large poster board containing the pictures of the Catholic Church's representatives in each of the Central American countries with "X" s marked beside several names. Presumably, an "X" meant future elimination.

Behind the house was a patio, connecting the residence to what was called the "girls' dollhouse," built for his daughters when they were children; it was as large as most people's homes. On each end of the patio were two large altars set up for voodoo worship and witchcraft. Noriega had brought to Panama two "high-powered witches from Brazil. One of them was reputed to be the world's leading witch; he lived on the causeway to Fort Amador in a house where at H-hour the SEALs had established a roadblock (I don't know what became of him).

The MI warrant officer explained each of the altars. On one was arranged containers of blood, a skull, crows' feathers, and cars of corn with multicolored kernels. All of this, the warrant officer explained, puts the "worshiper" in the right frame of mind for some kind of atrocity or evil act.

On the other altar were arranged stuffed doves, pictures of babies, and other "nice" things. The "worshiper" would cleanse his soul here afterward.

In Noriega's bedroom were several pairs of red silk bikini underwear — a Noriega trademark. We had found them just about everywhere Noriega showed his face. According to the warrant officer, the witch doctor had likely told Noriega they would protect him from physical harm.

"Maintain tight security here," I told Johnson as I left. "I don't want anything disturbed before we show it to the right people. After that, we'll turn it over to Panamanian authority." Among those whom I especially wanted to see all this — and what we had found at Fort Amador — were high-level officials of the Catholic Church. As soon as Noriega had himself brought to the Nunciatore, General Thurman started talking with the Catholic hierarchy, and of course with Washington, about ways to resolve the problem. When I got the chance, I suggested to Thurman that he invite some selected Catholic officials down to show them what we'd found.

It was an eyeful, that's for sure; but it gave us real insights into the man Noriega. It also began to give me ideas about how to get Noriega out of the Nunciatore.

The first thing I did after 1 left was meet with Downing. We were particularly interested in finding a use for Noriega's red underwear. For all we knew, he was wearing a pair right then. If he ever had a need for the powers they gave, it was certainly then.

Our first idea was to hang a pair on a clothesline outside his window (Laboa had told us where it was) and shoot them full of holes to show him how empty their powers were.

"I can take care of that," Downing said, and the demonstration was carried out later that afternoon.

Meanwhile, I'd picked up an interesting detail from the warrant officer: A goat was a very bad omen. That set me thinking.

This led to an instruction to my J-2 to come up with the ugliest, stinkingest billygoat he could find, and doctor him up for Noriega. The next day the J-2 produced a goat with really impressive horns and a beard that came down just short of his knees. They decked him out in a pair of red bikini underwear, rigged him up so a remote control signal sent smoke blowing out of his nostrils and ears, and tied him outside Noriega window.

We never knew how Noriega took all this, but it couldn't have helped his digestion.

On the night of December 23, the media was cleared into Panama.

Well before the operation was launched, Thurman and I agreed on how we would work media affairs. Essentially, his headquarters would handle them, under his public affairs officer, an Air Force colonel; and I provided my public affairs officer, Jake Dye, an Army colonel, to SOUTIICOM, which established a media center in a large tent just outside the headquarters. There would be two daily press briefings — one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

From the beginning the operation had been kept secret, but on the night of the twentieth, there were enough media already in Panama to cover a good part of the activities in the vicinity of the Comandancia. TVs are common in Panama; which meant civilians could watch the battles taking place live on their home screens.

On the night of the twenty-third, Panama's airspace was still closed to everything but military traffic. A call came in from Pete Kemph at Howard Air Force Base. A Lockheed L-1011 was overhead, asking permission to land.

"Who's on it?" 1 asked.

Kemph called back, "It's a load of media; they've been cleared from Washington."

"We have no alternative but to let them land," I said.

They were met on the ground by Thurman and taken to Quarry Heights, where they were given a complete briefing. Afterward, Thurman announced that the plan was to put them out in groups of three or four with each rifle company so they could get front-line coverage. Company commanders would be responsible for their security, food, and protection. Every day they would select a small number to travel around in a helicopter and pick up their "take," which they'd have time to file for the evening news.

The media found this arrangement totally unacceptable. Each media team wanted helicopters of its own, so they could immediately get to the action (one team had a satellite communications set it would take a Chinook to carry).

"I'm sorry," Thurman told them, "but I can't accommodate you on that. We're still involved in security operations and don't have enough helicopters to support the troops, much less give you dedicated helicopters."

They reluctantly agreed to this arrangement, but that didn't last long. Many of them began to slip away and rent cars; pretty soon they were running around all over the place.

It didn't take the press long to find out that Noriega was in the Nunciatore. Not long after that, they took over the Holiday Inn, about a hundred yards away and were out on the balconies with their pinpoint microphones, trying to pick up what was going on.

This worried me. "We've got very sensitive negotiations going on outside the Nunciatore between Downing, Cisneros, Michael Kuzack," the U.S. Embassy representative, "and Laboa," I told Thurman, "and we have to find a way to block these microphones listening in. What I'd like to do is bring in some psychological operations loudspeakers and play music."

"Good idea," Thurman said. "Set it up."

And that's what we did.

Pretty soon, the press got teed off and started calling directly to the White House, claiming we were violating their first amendment rights by blasting them with rock music. That was not, in fact, true. It wasn't all rock music. We had also selected some good country-and-western songs, like Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire," and "Nowhere to Run To," and "In the Jailhouse Now."

We didn't forget Noriega in all this. We wanted to send him a clear message that the ball game was over. During the afternoons, we hooked up the loudspeakers to U.S. Southern Command radio so he could also hear about the surrenders of his PDF commanders and the freezing of his overseas bank accounts.

The loudspeaker campaign didn't last long.

The White House put pressure on General Powell, who called General Thurman and demanded an explanation. General Thurman did that, but it apparently did not satisfy the White I louse, and we were ordered to stop the music.

As we wrestled with the problem of prying Noriega out of the Nunciatore, operations were going on throughout western Panama to bring security and stability, and great progress had been made (looting had practically ceased), owing in large measure to the signal sent by combat activities at H-hour. Also contributing to the success was the surrender of Lieutenant Colonel Del Cid. Word of his surrender had also almost certainly reached Noriega before he'd entered the Nunciatore; this would not have lifted his mood.

All the while, intelligence reports were coming in that Noriega supporters were planning rescue attempts.

One report claimed that rescuers planned to land a small helicopter inside the Nunciatore grounds and fly him out. In response, Downing positioned Ranger stinger-missile teams on every nearby high-rise building. There was no way a helicopter was going to get into the Nunciatorc.

Another report claimed Noriega was going to slip away out the back and down an irrigation ditch. Infantry troops were brought in to secure the ditch, and surveillance cameras with infrared capability were installed for all-around security.

Meanwhile, progress was slow on the Noriega problem — though matters were far from a standstill. Washington had been negotiating with the Vatican, and those negotiations continued. We had made suggestions to Monsignor Laboa about keeping Noriega's misery level as high as possible, and Laboa was cooperating. Noriega was not getting special privileges. Laboa had ordered his room's air-conditioning to be turned off, and Noriega, a vegetarian, was served the same food as everyone else. Of course, Laboa had also been a major factor in getting the women and children out.

At the same time, General Thurman was pursuing initiatives with Panama's Catholic leadership. Archbishop Marcus McGrath, the senior Catholic prelate, took a witchcraft-and-voodoo tour of the residence and "dollhouse"; and he also had laid out for him the pornography, the torture photos, and the poster listing several of the Catholic priests in Panama and Central America, with "X" s marked next to names.

Afterward, the archbishop convened a bishops' conference, resulting in a letter from the bishops to the Pope, asking for an order to release Noriega to U.S. custody.

Movement from that direction came on December 29, when the Vatican newspaper reported: "The Vatican had never intended to hinder justice by granting Noriega refuge." On New Year's Day, Monsignor Berlocco, the Vatican's expert on Central America, arrived to help Laboa with Noriega. The next day, he confided to Cisncros that he hoped for a speedy and just resolution to the problem.

About that time, I had an idea: Back at the October 3 coup, when Noriega was being held in the Comandancia, we had pretty good evidence that he'd called Miss Vicki and asked her to get hold of the troop commanders who'd come in to rescue him.

If she was useful then, why wouldn't she be useful now?

I told Downing to have Miss Vicki brought in so we could talk to her. We picked her up that night, then sat her down and told her how she could help save her lover's life.

Vicki was a very strong woman and at first refused to cooperate, but as the night wore on, she began to talk about her thirteen-year-old daughter. The girl had a mild heart condition (it required medication, but was not life-threatening). It was obvious Vicki loved the girl very much, and had somehow gotten the impression that we "had" her; we didn't tell her any different. In fact, during the night we were able to locate her daughter — and ensure her safety.

At daybreak, Miss Vicki agreed to cooperate — with the condition that we let her see her daughter. We brought the daughter in, along with clean clothing for Vicki, and then let her take a shower and have a nice breakfast with her daughter.

After that, we gave her our message for Noriega: He had only two options. One was to come out feet first. The other was to come out with dignity — wearing his general's uniform — and surrender.

In the meantime, we were setting up for her a special phone link to the Nunciatore, which of course Wayne Downing could monitor.

We gained a tremendous amount of intelligence listening to these conversations. The lady turned out to be better informed than we thought, and laid things out straight.

She led off by explaining to Noriega that his support infrastructure had totally crumbled, the people were against him, and Del Cid had surrendered. Then it got personal. She was deeply worried about him. He was trapped in a corner with very few options, and it was obvious she cared a lot about him and wanted him to stay alive.

At first, Noriega steadfastly refused to consider surrender, but as the next couple of days passed, he began to waver.

On January 1, Panamanian radio announced that a large anti-Noriega demonstration would take place the afternoon of the third on the avenue that passed the Nunciatore. The demonstration was advertised as a "show of support for U.S. actions in Panama." On January 2, we received intelligence that anti-Noriega groups might take matters into their own hands and try to "deal with Noriega" during this "friendly" demonstration.

Security was increased. Two additional infantry battalions took up positions along the demonstration route, snipers were posted on every local high-rise roof, Sheridan tanks and a battalion of military police were brought in to establish a roadblock two hundred yards from the Nunciatore (demonstrators could not pass beyond it), and an AC-130 gunship and Apache helicopters would overwatch.

The snipers were given orders to shoot anyone who fired on the demonstration, as well as any demonstrators attempting to storm the Nunciatore; but no one was to fire on the crowd without my approval.

Early on the afternoon of January 3, thousands of people marched toward the Nunciatore, beating pots and pans and waving banners proclaiming support for the United States.

As the crowd was beginning to move, Cisneros was on the way to a meeting with Downing and Monsignor Laboa in Downing's elementary school headquarters. As he drove past the demonstrators, several of them were shouting "We want Noriega!"

Many of the demonstrators knew Cisneros, and one group stopped him: "Let us have him," they called out, "and we can solve this problem very quickly."

"No," he told them. "That's not the way to go. We're much better equipped to handle the problem. Don't look for a confrontation, or you may become casualties yourselves."

Shortly, the crowd had grown to several thousand (some estimates put it at 20,000) and could be heard from the Nunciatore a mile away.

Near the Nunciatore, Cisneros and Laboa discussed the demonstration. "Do you know about Mussolini's final days?" Cisneros asked the Nuncio.

Laboa was familiar with the story. A mob had lynched the Italian dictator, then hung him upside down, naked.

"If this mob gets hold of Noriega," Cisneros continued, "they will most certainly lynch him. But if he surrenders, we will protect him."

That seemed to motivate Laboa in a way we hadn't seen before. With a very worried look on his face, he leapt up and dashed across the street to the Nunciatore. Moments later, he had a talk with Noriega. We don't know what they said, but the Nuncio surely mentioned that Noriega's countymen out there in the streets were in a killing mood.

Miss Vicki also had a talk with him at about that time. Their conversation lasted about ten minutes. "The decision is in your hands," she concluded.

The demonstration outside grew ever noisier, but remained "peaceful"; no shots were fired. Thousands were chanting, "Assassin! Assassin! No more! Down with Noriega! Out of the Nunciatore!" A Noriega mannequin in military uniform with a pineapple head was hung in effigy.

An hour before dark, a light rain began to fall and fog was moving in. At about the same time, we sent the demonstrators a message over our loudspeakers that it was time to break up and go home. And they did.

We'll probably never know who influenced Noriega more — Miss Vicki or the Nuncio. However, we were asked to bring one of Noriega's uniforms to the Nunciatore. Marc Cisneros had confiscated three uniforms from his Fort Amador office. We sent over one of these.

At 8:44 P.M. on the evening of January 3, 1990, "General" Noriega, accompanied by Father Vilanueva, another priest at the Nunciatore, and Monsignor Laboa, walked out of the gate and into the street, where Downing was waiting. Downing had never seen Noriega in person, but judging from pictures, had imagined he was a robust, roly-poly guy. That did not turn out to be the case. The man was small and shriveled-up. "Have they substituted another guy?" Downing instantly asked himself. "Did Noriega slip out the back gate?"

Downing grabbed Lieutenant Colonel "Jerry," his man in charge of security. "Make sure they're watching the rear," he said urgently. "This isn't Noriega."

Meanwhile, another Embassy official, standing beside Cisneros, remarked, "Don't worry, that's him."

Noriega was carrying a Bible and a toothbrush.

The party entered the school, continued through it, and walked down the steps leading to the soccer field, where two Blackhawks were waiting.

Monsignor Laboa gave Noriega a final blessing, which concluded, "My son, now I leave you."

Downing then took Noriega a little further; Laboa did not wish to be present when the dictator was handcuffed. As they neared the helicopters, two large special operators were waiting with flex cuffs. As they approached him, Noriega put up a protest. "I am a general," he announced. "I am a prisoner of war. I don't need to be treated like this."

His protests were ignored. For his own protection, he was quickly cuffed and placed in the lead helicopter, and the helo lifted into the fog. At Howard Air Force Base, an MC-130 was waiting with its engines running and two DEA agents on board, along with a special operations doctor. As the tailgate was closing, Noriega was read his rights, then placed under arrest by the DEA agents.[30]

En route to Homestead Air Force Base, he was made to undress for a physical examination. He pulled off all his clothes except his underwear. When he was told to take that off, too, it turned out he was in fact wearing two pair — white boxer shorts and red bikinis underneath.

The JSOTF surgeon, Lieutenant Colonel "Tony," gave him a thorough physical. He was physically fit, and no physical harm had been done to him. He was then given an Air Force flight suit and a pair of hospital sandals. After he put these on, he was handcuffed, shackled, and placed in a seat at the front of the aircraft near the bulkhead, where he slept for the next four hours.

Before landing, he asked to put on his general's uniform, and was allowed to do so. At Homestead Air Force Base in Florida, a Learjet was waiting to fly him to Miami for arraignment before a federal judge.

During the drama of Noriega's surrender, Senator John Warner and I monitored every detail in the operations center at Fort Clayton (Warner was there to show his support and make a personal assessment).

As the Blackhawks lifted into the fog for I Ioward Air Force Base, shouts went up from the seventy-five or so operations officers and NCOs who had been working practically around the clock since the start of Operation JUST CAUSE. This was IT! The last objective had been accomplished!

Now we could devote our full attention to getting Panama back on its feet — free from oppression. Senator Warner rushed to the big operations map and with a Magic Marker wrote: "Great job! We are all very proud of you!" Then he made a few much-appreciated inspirational comments.

The word spread quickly. Joyful Panamanians filled the streets — ex — pressing their thanks so effusively the troops had a hard time eliminating the last pockets of resistance.

THE VETTING PROCESS

On Friday, December 22, 1989, President Endara decided to abolish the PDF, except for a two-hundred-man presidential guard force, a specially trained and equipped reaction force (whose numbers were yet to be defined), and the new Fuerza Publica (public police force), with a new chief to lead it. In the past, the functions of police, customs, and defense had all been merged into the PDF. These functions were now separated.

The task remained to sort out the PDF. Some were being held by our infantry companies in the west. Others were being held in the detention camp.

The sorting-out task was assigned to Vice President Calderon, who soon asked for our help. At a meeting with Thurman and me, the three of us agreed that U.S. forces would handle the working out of this process, and Calderon would represent the Panamanian government.

Practically, it worked this way: A team would take helicopters to the various PDF cuartels, and either I or a brigade commander would go along to assist. When we came to a cuartel, all the PDF there would be assembled, and an announcement would be made: "The new government is in charge, and the decision has been made about the future of the PDF." Then the sorting-out began: First, all those on the most wanted list were identified and segregated. Then the officers and the enlisted were separated into groups, and the members of each group were given the opportunity to take and sign an oath of allegiance to the new government.

All those who signed were paid on the spot with money that U.S. forces had confiscated, and they were sent home to buy food for their families.

Many of these volunteered for the new police force.

All those who refused to take the oath (very few, as it happened) were placed with those on the most wanted list and then flown off under U.S. guard to the detention camp.

At the detention camp, there were a total of 4,600 detainees. The truly violent were segregated in one section, looters in another, PDF members in another, and Dignity Battalion members in another, with a separate section for women. PDF members were then segregated by rank — officers in one section and enlisted in another. Though everyone was given the opportunity to pledge allegiance to the new government, those on the most wanted list, former prisoners, or anyone caught committing violent crimes were kept in confinement at the camp.

Most detainees were younger PDF enlisted members who had simply been caught up in the U.S. dragnet. They were swiftly released.

Because of past PDF oppression, enmity ran deep among Panamanians toward most PDF cuartels. This meant that U.S. forces had to guard the cuartels and work out ways to minimize reprisals against the former PDF, until the new government was fully in charge.

OPERATION PROMOTE LIBERTY

"I can handle the combat part of this operation," I remarked to General Thurman during the first planning session for Operation JUST CAUSE, "but who is going to be responsible for planning the 'nation building'?

"The combat part is the easier of the two," I told him, "because when you are shooting at someone, you are in control of the variables. But, when you enter the nation-building phase, you are not. The new government is in control, and you have to respond to their needs and priorities. For that reason, the transition from combat operations to stability to nation-building must be seamless, so there is no loss in momentum. And the planning for it must be integrated from the beginning.

"It will require a different kind of command-and-control structure, different kinds of forces — with more technical and specialized capabilities — and a different approach to psychological operations. Their objectives and themes must be focused on support for the new government. Some of the forces needed, particularly Civil Affairs, are in the Reserves and must be identified now for call-up when needed.

"It is this phase," I concluded, "and the way we leave Panama, that will form the basis for judging the success or failure of this whole operation."

"This is very important," Thurman answered. "But I want you to focus exclusively on the combat operations; and SOUTHCOM will handle the planning responsibilities for nation-building. Some work has already been done; the BLIND LOGIC plan has gone through considerable development, but it needs to be revised and made to conform with the new combat plan."

As planning progressed, the concept of operations for the critical nation-building phase was as follows:

• Transition from combat operations to stability operations to nation-building.

• Establishment of a military support group to administer nation-building programs.

• Conduct nation-building with in-country forces, plus augmentation as required.

During the transition phase, the combat units would also establish the security environment needed for nation-building, and use their own organic capabilities for food distribution, medical care, transportation, and cleanup.

Long before H-hour, Civil Affairs teams would be attached to the combat units, to assist commanders with civilians and refugees during the combat phase. Special Forces A-Detachments would also be attached to combat units during the transition phase; and as combat units were redeployed, they would remain in assigned areas of operations to assist with nation-building.

The Military Support Group for administering nation-building programs was formed as the USARSO Headquarters; I had absorbed it earlier when I had formed my headquarters, JTF South, but now it was reinstated. It would consist of three major components: 96th Civil Affairs Battalion; 1st PSYOPs Battalion; and Special Operations Forces (SOF), consisting of SOUTHCOM's Special Operations Command, 7th Special Forces Group, Naval Special Boat units, the 122nd Signal Company and a Special Aviation Detachment. Logistical support would be provided by the 41st Army General Support Group.

Detailed planning for nation-building was completed along with the combat plan. During planning, it was determined that approximately three hundred uniquely qualified Civil Affairs personnel would be needed — sanitation engineers, medical administrators, facility planners, construction supervisors, banking, police supervisors, etc. For security reasons, they could not be notified in advance, and were therefore notified at H-hour for individual call-up; they arrived in Panama within three weeks. All active-duty units needed were force-listed to arrive as soon after H-hour as they could be flown in.

SOUTHCOM interfaced with the country team and the new government and executed nation-building activities, while I continued my efforts to bring stability and control to Panama.

On December 21, the Military Support Group was activated; and some three hundred civil military affairs reservists were called up. On December 22, the 96th Civil Affairs Battalion arrived and immediately got to work; the 7th Special Forces Group followed over the next couple of days.

The 96th's assignments were to: restore basic functions in Panama City and throughout Panama, establish a police force, provide emergency food distribution, supervise Panamanian contractors in the cleanup of the city, and restore medical services. Their commander, Lieutenant Colonel Michael Peters, immediately established an operating infrastructure. Commanders and operational detachments were assigned to Zone P (Panama City and the eastern provinces), Zone C (Colon), and Zone D (the provinces west of Panama City).

On December 22, the day the 96th arrived in country, President Endara abolished and reorganized the PDF.

The major task and challenges associated with nation-building were as follows:

• First and foremost was the restoration of law and order.

• Second was the future disposition of the PDF.

• Third was the care and feeding of the 3,500 refugees then under U.S. control.

• Fourth was the restoration of medical services.

• Fifth was to clean up Panama City and restore services to the people.

On December 20, the 16th MP Brigade was brought in from Fort Bragg, and was immediately sent into Panama City, operating under U.S. rules, to provide security for the civil affairs efforts. The plan was to conduct joint patrols using the Brigade's HMMWVs; two U.S. MPs and two Panamanian policemen would ride together. The Panamanian policemen would make actual arrests, but under U.S. supervision. The immediate challenge was to come up with enough former policemen or soldiers to meet the need. Out of the first four hundred volunteers screened by the Panamanian government, only 160 were acceptable; but this was enough to get started. The vetting process continued among the units of the former PDF.

A police academy also had to be established. By U.S. law, the training of foreign police forces is the responsibility of the Justice Department. However, since security considerations had prevented us from bringing them in on the planning of JUST CAUSE, the Justice Department had passed its authority to the Department of Defense. The 7th Special Forces Group was brought in to establish the training programs for both the presidential guard unit and the national police force. The police and security experts needed for this mission were called up from the Reserves.

Because of the surgical nature of our invasion, collateral damage throughout the country was small. The only significant damage occurred in the Chiriori slum near the Comandancia, where many homeless had built cardboard and plywood shacks. Soon after our assault on the Comandancia, many weapon-toting PDF and Dignity Battalion members, dressed in civilian clothes, took refuge there, and then set the community on fire.

Later, many tried to pose as refugees; but most were caught.

Early on December 20 (D Day), we established a refugee center on the athletic field of Balboa High School, which was managed by a Civil Affairs company and governed by the mayor of Chiriori. An average of 3,500 refugees per day were provided with adequate food, clothing, shelter, medical treatment, and security. Eleven thousand people were processed through the center, many just to get a meal, before it was eventually given over to the new government and then closed.

We knew from an early survey that Panama had adequate medical facilities, doctors, and technicians, but there was a severe shortage of medical supplies.

During combat, Task Force Bayonet captured a warehouse in the Balboa area containing 150,000 pounds of medical supplies — accessible only by means of bribes. We changed that system on the spot, and the supplies were immediately distributed to Panamanian medical facilities. Two hundred and eighteen tons of Department of Defense medical supplies were also provided to hospitals and medical clinics.

Meanwhile, U.S. aid stations and hospitals were opened to the sick and wounded; fifteen thousand Panamanians were treated at U.S. facilities.

From December 26 to January 3, Civil Affairs and Special Forces troops operated thirteen food distribution centers, handing out 1,660 tons of food — mostly meals-ready-to-eat (MREs) — and one million tons of bulk food, such as baby food, liquids, dehydrated milk, and dried beans.

Cleaning up Panama City was relatively easy. The Civil Affairs troops and the MPs used some of the less hostile detainees held at the detention camp, organized them into detachments, placed them under U.S. guard, and took them into the city to do cleanup work. This was a great morale boost for local residents.

One of the first official ceremonies performed by President Endara was to swing a sledgehammer against the wall of the now-war-ravaged Comandancia. His swings were punctuated by chants from a crowd: "Harder, harder." This hated symbol of torture and oppression was being transformed into an apartment complex for those who had lost their homes in the fire.

TRANSITION AND REDEPLOYMENT

As word of Noriega's arrest and imprisonment in the United States spread across Panama, there was no longer any reason for resistance, and it was now possible to begin redeploying our combat forces.

Downing's special mission forces meanwhile relentlessly dismantled the Dignity Battalions; people were coming forth with information on their whereabouts about as fast as Downing's forces could follow up on them. It was a matter of time before they were no longer a viable force. That moment occurred on January 10, when Benjamin Calomarko, their commander, surrendered to U.S. forces.

At 6:00 P.M. on January 11, General Thurman was notified by the Pentagon that Operation JUST CAUSE was officially terminated.

It had indeed been a just cause. All our troops had believed that from the beginning. Their reward would be an enduring feeling in their hearts that they had sacrificed for what was just and right, and that their actions had made Panama a better place.

Their victory for freedom had not been without cost:

All armored vehicles, crew-served weapons, and ammunition were evacuated to the United States.

All other weapons and ammunition, except what was needed for training and equipping the new presidential security, reaction, and police force, was either destroyed or evacuated to the United States.

All vessels/ships and aircraft were restored to operational condition and left with the new government.

All money was turned over to the new government.

All explosives and chemical weapons were destroyed.

On January 3, we began a phased redeployment (January 18–26) of the 17,000 combat troops over and above the 9,500 troops normally assigned to SOUTHCOM.

Much nation-building work still had to be done in support of PROMOTE LIBERTY. Some of its requirements could take up to two years. The units involved with longer-term programs remained in Panama, but were rotated on a scheduled basis.

For the next nine days, my headquarters, JTF South, continued stability operations while managing the phased redeployment of our forces. We were also transitioning to a headquarters, JTF Panama, commanded by Major General Cisneros, which would take over responsibility for nation-building and security. Its headquarters and Military Support Group had been activated on December 21. Soon it would take control of the 193rd Brigade, the Marine Amphibious Unit, and additional forces that would remain behind — one of Major General Carmen Cavezza's combat brigades, plus a battalion of MPs from the 16th Military Police Brigade.

JTF South passed over all responsibilities to JTF Panama on January 11.

On January 12, at 8:00 A.M., two thousand troopers from the 82nd Airborne Division, the XVIII Airborne Corps staff, and I jumped onto Sicily Drop Zone at Fort Bragg to a cheering, flag-waving crowd of five thousand family members and dignitaries, among them, General Carl Vuono, Army Chief of Staff. The troops assembled on the drop zone and marched with their colors waving in the brisk cool breeze to the bleachers area.

This is what I said there:

"Thank you — and I cannot begin to tell you what you mean to us.

"1 wish you could have marched with us across that sand, and experienced our feelings as we drew closer and realized the meaning that you and these children conveyed with the flags you were waving.

"The mission to Panama was a difficult one. We literally decapitated a government, and then shook hands with the very people we had fought the night before and said, 'We want to help you now.'

"You would have been very proud of your soldiers. They're dedicated and motivated by all the things the American flag stands for, the very flags you were waving. No one ever fought more bravely or with more compassion for those they faced in battle.

"Everyone knew there would be danger, but not a single one hesitated to go, or to enter battle time and time again. They were well-trained for the mission, and they fought the way they had trained. We believe that what we were sent to do was just and right.

"Twenty-three of our comrades are at peace today, and they deserve the highest honors for their sacrifice. Our experience adds meaning to the expression 'Freedom Isn't Free.'

"To the families and all the members of this great community, we thank you for your prayers and your support. It gave us strength when strength was needed — and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts."

POST-ACTION THOUGHTS

In the days following Operation JUST CAUSE, I was asked many times, "What lessons did you learn?" and, "If you had to do it all over again, what would you do differently?"

Let me answer the second question first: "I'd have guarded the Nunciatore. That way we would either have grabbed Noriega on the way in, or we would have taken that option away from him."

As for lessons learned: JUST CAUSE was a very successful operation. There were several reasons for its success:

First, the Goldwater-Nichols Act of 1986 clearly established the chain of command down to theater level, along with the authority for fulfilling command responsibility. Under this act, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was made the principal military adviser to the National Command Authority (SECDEF and President), and the Joint Staff was made directly responsible and subordinate to the Chairman, not to the Joint Chiefs, as had been the case before. This docs not mean that an astute Chairman does not consult with the service Chiefs; but it eliminated consensual decision-making that was sometimes influenced by service parochialism. The act also included the warfighting commanders-in-chief in the chain of command, and gave them additional authority for conducting military operations in their theaters for wartime as well as peacetime activities.

Second, clear guidance was given by the National Command Authority to General Thurman.

Third, from the start, General Thurman gave me full authority over all forces and the necessary freedom for developing the plan.

Fourth, once the plan was completed, we briefed it all the way up through the decision-making authority, and it was approved as written.

Fifth, we were allowed enough time to fully rehearse.

Sixth, when the operation was launched, we were allowed to execute it without changing the plan.

Back to the question: "What lessons did you learn?"

I can't say we really learned any lessons. In my opinion, you only learn a lesson as a result of a big mistake, or when you have failed to anticipate an event somewhere along the line — training readiness, plan development, or the like — that could effect the mission.

With that said, however, we did validate some principles and procedures that contributed to our success in Panama, which also apply to future operations:

• Integrated planning and execution are key to success for all contingency operations, particularly for joint operations when forces from other services are involved.

• A streamlined "warfighter"-oriented command-and-control structure, responsive to needs at lowest levels, is imperative.

• Overwhelming combat power results in quick victory with fewer casualties on both sides.

• Continuous review of rules of engagement, with responsive and assured dissemination, maximizes combat capability and flexibility.

• Use of Joint Communications Electronic Operating Instructions (CEOI) is crucial for successful joint operations.

• Troops fight to standards to which they are trained — and nothing more. There is no substitute for live-fire training, under the most realistic conditions, as you expect to fight.

• Maximum latitude must be allowed units at lowest level; otherwise don't expect their fullest potential.

• No force more powerful than PSYOPs can ever be brought to the battlefield. If you can influence the minds of your foe, the job is much easier and less expensive by every measure.

• Appropriately integrating Special Operations and conventional forces maximizes force potential and capability in ways not otherwise possible.

Though all of this contributed immeasurably to the success of Operation JUST CAUSE, it is no more than what is normally expected of senior commanders.

And finally, the plan the leaders create may be a thing of great beauty, yet it is only as good as the troops that execute it. The outcome is determined at their level.

I cannot praise enough the motivation, the technical and professional competence, the daring, the maturity, and the caring of our troops at all levels from all the services. Our officers and NCOs were superbly trained; they led their troops the way troops expect to be led. They and their troops did everything we asked — and then more. They have earned the credit for all that was accomplished in Operation JUST CAUSE.

One more group deserves recognition — the wives in Panama who were embroiled without warning in mortal combat, and who spent the night of December 19 and 20 huddled over their children in closets as the battles raged. These same women, two days later, opened and operated the Commissary and P.X. so families could get much-needed supplies. They were professionals of the highest order, most deserving of our deepest respect and gratitude.

YES, Operation JUST CAUSE was an occasion of deep satisfaction. We didn't rest on our laurels, though. We knew another major crisis could come any time, and we had to be prepared for it. Little did we know, however, just how soon that would be.