Today in Manhunting History -- January 3, 1990: Noriega's Surrender

Although the loudspeaker gambit failed to dislodge Noriega, Thurman had other levers by which to influence the dictator and the priest. U.S. forces acted as if they were preparing to assault the Nunciatura, shooting out the street lights and cutting down the tall grass and brush surrounding the white stucco building. U.S. patrols circled the embassy walls while other soldiers took up positions in a parking garage 50 feet away. U.S. troops cleared a landing zone for a helicopter that made several landings in an attempt to intimidate Noriega. Thurman also arranged for Archbishop Marcos McGrath, the senior Catholic prelate in Panama, to tour Noriega’s former residences and office to “gain insight into the man’s soul.” In addition to the Hitler and voodoo paraphernalia, the Archbishop was shown a large poster of all the priests and other high Catholic officials in Central America implying they were on a hit list. Archbishop McGrath subsequently convened a conference of Panamanian bishops, who then wrote Pope John Paul II a letter urging the pontiff to order Noriega’s release to U.S. custody.

But the key to influencing Noriega proved not to be an American officer or policymaker, but rather Monsignor Laboa. A small man with white hair and spectacles, hailing from Spain’s Basque region, Laboa was a seasoned Church diplomat and a former advocatus diaboli – only now he would be attempting to persuade the devil rather than advocating on his behalf. Laboa had shaped Vatican policy toward Panama for years, and knew that Noriega was “a man, who without a pistol, is manageable by anyone.” He set about applying both subtle and direct pressure on the dictator in order to get him to surrender willingly.



Monsignor (later Archbishop) Jose Sebastian Laboa, Papal Nunciatura to Panama
 at the time of Operation Just Cause

Upon Noriega’s arrival, Laboa had the dictator disarmed and confined to the same bare bedroom with no air-conditioning and broken television set in which so many of the dictator’s victims had sought refuge. Laboa denied the alcoholic Noriega any liquor, save for a single glass of beer. He also avoided repeating Giroldi’s mistake and removed the telephone from Noriega’s quarters. Laboa told Noriega he would never evict him, and he meant it. But he also informed Noriega that he had granted approval to U.S. forces to raid the compound should Noriega and his men use their weapons to seize control of the Nunciature. He then avoided contact with Noriega to isolate the deposed strongman and let him stew for a week.

As the days passed, increasing numbers of Panamanians began to gather at the barricades erected about 200 yards from the embassy. They banged pots and waved white handkerchiefs, shouting: “Kill the Hitler” and “Justice for the Tyrant.” Some skewered pineapples on long sticks and pumped them up and down in the air, taunting “Pineapple face! Pineapple face!” The crowd handed flowers to the U.S. forces surrounding the Nunciature, and when Laboa asked what would happen if the demonstrators tried to storm the barricades, Joint Special Operations Task Force commander Major General Wayne Downing replied: “I’m not going to kill a single innocent person to protect that SOB.”

By January 2, Laboa was ready to apply pressure. In a brief 15 minute meeting, he urged Noriega to see that his best option was to surrender to U.S. justice and defend himself in an American courtroom. The next day a crowd of more than 10,000 Panamanians descended upon the Avenida Balboa to demonstrate. Against the backdrop of the angry crowd and a chorus of anti-Noriega slogans, Laboa again invited the dictator to talk. Once again he assured Noriega that he could stay. But Laboa suggested he consider the mob outside who wanted to kill him and might overrun the Nunciature.

“But we have the U.S. Army out there,” Noriega protested.

“They will not fire on the Panamanian people,” Laboa replied. He ominously suggested Noriega could end up like Mussolini, killed by his own people and strung up for the world to see. Besides, Laboa asked, even if he were to remain safely within the confines of the Nunciature, “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life having nuns wash your underwear?”

Noriega was out of options. It was clear from the U.S. troops and mass of demonstrators outside that he had no hope of regaining power. Later in the afternoon, he told Laboa: “Your solution is best. I am going.”

Just before 9PM, January 3, Noriega emerged from the Nunciature wearing a wrinkled tan uniform with four stars on each shoulder board. Carrying a Bible and a toothbrush, he looked stunned and submissive in the glare of the television camera lights. He was met at the gate by Major General Cisneros.

“Yo soy el General Noriega. Me rindo a las fuerza de los Estados Unidos.” (I am General Noriega, and I am surrendering to U.S. forces).

“Su rendicion es aceptada.” (Your surrender is accepted).

The ex-dictator was quickly seized by Delta Force operators and hustled aboard a helicopter. Minutes later, at Howard Air Force Base, he was formally placed under arrest by DEA agents and read his Miranda rights in Spanish. The agents made him trade his uniform for a prisoner’s flight suit and escorted him aboard a C-130. Within two hours the man who had controlled a tropical paradise as the “Maximum Leader” was on the ground in the United States, heading to a Miami jail cell as Prisoner #41586.

Although the hunt for Noriega ended successfully, and Operation Just Cause was the rare strategic manhunt that achieved its broader strategic objectives, it does contain a sad footnote.  When Manuel Noriega surrendered on January 3, 1990, Chief Warrant Officer Cliff Wolcott of the elite 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment piloted the Black Hawk carrying the deposed strongman from the Papal Nunicature to Howard Air Force Base.  Wolcott would play a central, albeit tragic role in the hunt for Somali warlord Muhammad Farah Aideed three years later. On the October 3, 1993 raid in Bakara Market, Mogadishu,Wolcott’s Black Hawk, Super Six One, disgorged his chalk of Rangers at 3:45PM and provided fire support to the Rangers on the perimeter using its sniper team to disperse the growing crowd. At 4:15PM, however, his voice broke through the radio clutter, calmly saying: “Six-One is going down.” Wolcott’s Black Hawk had been hit by a RPG-7 grenade, and dropped like a stone 300 yards east of the target building. The two crew chiefs and three Delta snipers survived, albeit badly injured, but the two pilots were killed on impact. The ensuing rescue attempts were immortalized and the book and film Black Hawk Down.

CWO Cliff Wolcott