by Tom Clancy
"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 t
his 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 governmen
t 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: