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 function
s 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 unit
s 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.