Noriega's Playlists!

Thanks to the wonderful folks at George Washington University's National Security Archives, we can actually see the playlist used by the 4th PsyOps Group outside the Papal Nunciatura.

 

 Hmmm . . . I think they would have had me out of there with the New Kids on the Block and Cher, but I have to admit to owning a few of these tunes on my iPod.

Today in Manhunting History -- December 27, 1989: "Voodoo Chile" for the Voodoo Dictator

On December 24, Delta Force had received a tip that Noriega was en route to the Nunciature, and was speeding through the air in six Black Hawks hoping to intercept the blue all-terrain vehicle carrying Noriega when they were told they were too late. Instead of capturing the dictator, they landed two helicopters on Avenida Balboa, the main street in front of the Nunciature. They were quickly joined by Armored Personnel Carriers, who pointed their .50 caliber machine guns outward to deter a rescue attempt by Noriega loyalists. Military police arrived and cordoned off the area with concertina wire.

In Washington, Secretary Cheney told Powell “Don’t let that guy out of the compound.” The State Department immediately informed the Vatican of the situation and requested it deny political asylum to Noriega. Since most of the Vatican hierarchy were about to celebrate Midnight Mass at Saint Peter’s, State did not receive an immediate response. However, on Christmas Day, the papal secretary of state responded to Secretary Baker’s request for Noriega’s release with a polite but firm refusal. A Church spokesman explained that Noriega was being urged to leave of his own free will, but “At the same time, we cannot force Noriega to leave nor . . . can we consign him to U.S. forces, which would be a decision against international law.”

On Christmas morning, General Thurman spoke personally with Monsignor Laboa at the gate of the Nunciature. American officers noticed that the third floor balcony of the Holiday Inn, less than 100 yards away, was filled with reporters, many of whom held long boom mikes directed at the Nunciature. Fearing they would use them to eavesdrop on either the negotiations or internal U.S. military discussions, General Thurman ordered loudspeakers be directed to create a sound barrier around the Nunciature.

In what would become one of the more comically surreal aspects of the Noriega manhunt, on December 27 the 4th Psychological Operations Group went to work. As Delta commander Jerry Boykin recalled: “Being twenty-year olds, the psy-ops guys started playing loud rock music. Really loud.” As the music blared around the clock, it became apparent it could also be used to keep Noriega – a reported opera aficionado – in a state of agitation. Consequently, the 4th Psy Ops utilized a playlist heavy on ironically titled songs such as “Voodoo Child,” “You’re No Good,” and “I Fought the Law.” Thurman embraced the tactic, proudly telling reporters “I am the music man.” However, the noise drove the Nunciatura staff crazy, keeping Laboa and others awake. (Noriega later claimed he could not hear the music). On December 29, Laboa insisted the music stop, and on day three of the operation a White House directive not to “make things any more difficult or unpleasant for Monsignor Laboa than necessary” led Powell to order Thurman to turn off the music. The music was replaced by Spanish language reports carrying stories of the surrender of the PDF in outlying areas in order to demoralize Noriega.

Today in Manhunting History -- December 24, 1989: Noriega Gets Religion

Leading up to the invasion, Noriega had been constantly tracked by members of Delta Force, aided by experts from the National Security Agency and Central Intelligence Agency. This surveillance and intelligence cell, code named CENTRA SPIKE, reported directly to General Thurman and monitored radio and telephone communications and directed a network of informants that traced the dictator’s movements. On the eve of the invasion, Noriega’s last known location was in a house in Colon at 6PM on December 19. Shortly thereafter, he left the Atlantic side of Panama and travelled in a convoy of cars and buses south towards Panama City along the Boyd-Roosevelt Highway. Part of the convoy turned off the road toward Tocumen and Torrijos airfields, while the other half headed straight toward the Comandancia. Although the Joint Special Operations Command was confident that Noriega had not returned to his headquarters, they could not definitely say where he actually was. At H-Hour, U.S. troops raided Noriega’s beach house at Farallon and his apartment near Colon, but found both of them empty.

In reality, Noriega had returned to Panama City around 8PM, heading straight to a PDF club. Despite the mounting evidence of the impending invasion, he dismissed the possibility of a U.S. attack, insisting the reports of troop mobilizations were disinformation designed to scare him into fleeing. A longtime alcoholic, he proceeded to get drunk, eventually deciding another form of entertainment was needed. A sergeant on his staff was dispatched to pick up a prostitute, who met the intoxicated strongman at the Ceremi Recreation Center, a PDF rest area just east of Tocumen military airfield. His dalliance was interrupted at 1AM, when the thumping sound of an AC-130 gunship’s 105mm and 40mm cannon prepping the objective at Tocumen for the 1st Ranger Battalion’s assault shook the room. Noriega’s bodyguard, Captain Ivan Castillo, went outside and saw the sky filled with 750 parachutes descending upon the airfield. Castillo rushed back inside to collect his boss, and the dictator’s entourage piled into the two Hyundai hatchbacks.

The next day, elements of Bravo Company, 1st Ranger Battalion secured the Recreation Center, discovering some of Noriega’s personal belongings, including his uniform and shoes.

Early on the morning of 24 December, Ivan Castillo left the Panama City apartment where he and Noriega had been hiding for the past three days. He told his boss he was searching for the next place to hide, and that if he did not return by 7AM Noriega was to move without him. Noriega trusted Castillo completely. It was the captain who had told him to put on civilian clothes rather than his uniform at the Ceremi Recreation Center, a decision that allowed him to evade U.S. forces. Later that night, as Noriega and some bodyguards were leaving an associate’s house and saw three U.S. Blackhawk helicopters descending nearby, it was Castillo who warned them to stop running lest they draw the attention of another gunship hovering above. Consequently, when Castillo talked, Noriega listened.

But Castillo was tired of running and ready to give up. He set out to look for an American to take him to Major General Marc Cisneros, the Spanish-speaking commander of U.S. Army South, to whom he hoped to betray Noriega in exchange for his own safety. At 6:30AM Castillo found a patrol from the 7th Infantry, but none of the soldiers spoke Spanish. Castillo tried to explain who he was, but was taken into custody as a prisoner of war, and Cisneros did not find out about Castillo’s surrender until 10:30AM after four precious hours had passed.

“General,” Castillo told Cisneros, “if I could have gotten word to you when I wanted to, I could have found you Noriega.
“Well, where could he be?” Cisneros asked.

Castillo handed Cisneros a list of possible hiding spots. Although it was now several hours past the time he told Noriega to leave from their last safe house, Castillo said Noriega probably left his baggage behind and might return to the location. But when the team arrived, they found nothing besides the dictator’s wallet and briefcase.

Major General Marc Cisneros, Commander of the U.S. Army South during Operation Just Cause

Castillo was not the only person trying to contact Cisneros on Christmas Eve. While the raid was being planned and executed, Monsignor Jose Sebastian Laboa, the papal nuncio to Panama, was desperately trying to reach Cisneros by telephone for hours to warn him that Noriega was seeking asylum. While U.S. commanders had stationed forces outside several foreign embassies to which Noriega might seek asylum – such as Cuba, Nicaragua, or Libya – they neglected to block the Vatican’s embassy. Although Noriega kept pictures of two popes on his office desk, he claimed to be a Buddhist and was known to practice black voodoo.

Around 3:30PM Laboa’s call finally got through to the general. As Cisneros picked up the phone, he heard the priest whisper: “He just walked in.”

While Delta Force was hunting for Noriega, elements of the 7th SFG were conducting what came do be called the “Ma Bell” operations. In order to avoid direct attacks on the remaining PDF garrisons spread throughout the Panamanian countryside and the casualties such missions would entail, Captain Charles Cleveland suggested they telephone the Panamanian commander at each barracks and give him an ultimatum to surrender peacefully or face a U.S. attack. Between December 22-31, these missions produced the surrender of 14 garrisons and 2,000 PDF troops.

Perhaps the most significant capitulation was the first one, when Major Del Cid in Chiriqui, the linchpin to a potential guerrilla war strategy, announced he would surrender on December 23. The news depressed Noriega, who subsequently told an intermediary to call Monsignor Laboa and request asylum. Noriega requested the Vatican’s emissary pick him up at the Panama City Dairy Queen. There, a visibly exhausted Noriega – wearing a T-shirt, Bermuda shorts, and an oversized baseball cap – jumped into the backseat of the nunciature’s car, and sunk low in his seat to avoid being seen on the short drive to the nuciature, arriving at the Vatican’s embassy at 3:30PM.

Manuel Noriega had begun the invasion with a prostitute. He would end it surrounded by nuns.

Today in Manhunting History -- December 21, 1989: Hunting Noriega

"This operation is . . . pretty well wrapped up,” President George H. W. Bush said on December 21, 1989, but “I won’t be satisfied until we see [Noriega] come to justice.” A $1 million bounty for information leading to Noriega’s capture was announced, although one senior officer cautioned: “We don’t want to make him a fugitive bandit being hunted by marines. He’s not Pancho Villa, he’s John Dillinger.”

The avenues of escape were slammed shut throughout Panama by various special operations forces. Charlie Company, 7th SFG was assigned the mission of shutting down Radio Nacional. Thirty-six Green Berets deployed in three helicopters, and at 7PM the broadcaster announced “The invader’s helicopter is on top of the building.” Within a few minutes music replaced the steady stream of pro-Noriega propaganda that had filled the airwaves throughout the day.

As SEALs watched Panama’s ports and 7th Group’s Green Berets combed the streets of the capital, primary responsibility for hunting Noriega was given to Delta Force, which during H-Hour had conducted an audaciously brilliant raid to rescue an American citizen from the notorious Modelo Prison. Noriega sightings flooded into the SOUTHCOM intelligence network, and analysts tried to separate truth from falsehood. In Colon, an old woman appeared at the front gate of the hotel being used as headquarters for the 504th Parachute Infantry Regiment, “pointing a crooked finger and raving that Noriega had a secret tunnel under the hotel that he had used for an escape route upon the 7th Infantry’s arrival.” Other locals corroborated this claim, but a search of the hotel’s basement quickly dismissed the notion of a secret tunnel. For intelligence that was deemed credible, Delta Force could go “from tip to takeoff” in 30 minutes, and between December 21-24 launched 42 raids on every known or suspected safe house where Noriega could hide.

Yet for all of Delta’s considerable skill, they could apparently never catch up to the elusive dictator. Often they thought they were getting close: at one seaside villa on the Pacific Ocean, U.S. forces found lit cigarettes and warm coffee cups; at other locations they found PDF soldiers. But no matter how rapidly they kicked down doors and poured in through windows, the operators would be told Noriega had either just left or was at another location. As this cycle repeated itself in the days after the invasion, raiding troops made a series of bizarre discoveries. At Noriega’s residence at Fort Amador, U.S. troops found pictures of Hitler, an extensive pornography collection, a “witches diary” chronicling visits by two voodoo priestesses from Brazil, and 50 kilograms of white powder initially believed to be cocaine, but later identified as flour for making tamales. At Noriega’s home at Altos del Golfo, Delta uncovered more stacks of hardcore pornography, $8 million in U.S. currency, and two religious altars, one of which was decorated with jars containing human internal organs.

But there still was no sign of Noriega.

Cash found at one of Noriega's residences.  Posting pictures of his porn stash would have just led to trouble . . .

Speaking of Drones . . .

Bill Roggio reports that the United States has not launched a drone strike against a terrorist target in Pakistan in 33 days, the longest such break in between attacks since 2008 when we stopped informing the Pakistani government/military beforehand.  Roggio, who is the best analyst of open-source data on drone strikes, says U.S. officials claim this is due to fear of escalating an already tense relationship with Pakistan rather than a paucity of targets or technical issues.

On Drones and Arms Races

International law professor and blogger Kenneth Anderson -- possibly the most articulate commentator on the legality of drones and targeted killings -- offers some interesting assessments on two articles on drones and targeted killings from his perch over at The Volokh Conspiracy.

I'm rushing through my to-do list (including pre-posting a slew of historical posts) so that I can hit the road for the holidays, so will defer full commentary until a later date.

However, Anderson attempts to answer a question raised by Adam Entous and Julian Barnes' piece in the Wall Street Journal as to whether the United State is triggering an arms race in drones.  Although Anderson's analysis is interesting, he is overthinking this.  As someone whose (sadly, never-to-be-published) doctoral dissertation was on arms races, the spread of drone technology is similar to the spread of dreadnoughts prior to World War I.  After the war, some historians claimed it was a mistake for Great Britain to introduce this technology, as it inspired other competitors (especially Germany) to follow suit, and therefore mooted Britain's overwhelming lead in conventional wooden ships. 

In fact, John Abizaid made this argument in response to a question I asked regarding . . . well, okay, I forgot what I asked that prompted his response . . . at a national security seminar at Harvard in 2000 or 2001 when he was a three-star and the J-5 for the Joint Chiefs.

But in reality, Japan and the United States' navies were already experimenting with all big-guns designs by the time Great Britain christened the HMS Dreadnought in 1906.  Had the British navy not introduced this class of ship when they did, others would have.  Similarly, even had the U.S. military and intelligence agencies never developed its extensive drone capabilities, the basic technology of unmanned flight is fairly diffuse, and would have been put toward military applications by a potential competitor eventually regardless of U.S. actions.

Today in Manhunting History -- December 20, 1989: Operation Just Cause

General Thurman set H-Hour for Operation Just Cause at 1AM, December 20, the timing of which proved to be the worst kept secret in Panama as the massive movement of U.S. aircraft to Panama compromised strategic surprise. At 10PM Dan Rather appeared on a CBS News special report to announce: “U.S. military transport planes have left Fort Bragg. The Pentagon declines to say whether or not they’re bound for Panama. It will only say that the Fort Bragg-based 18th Airborne Corps has been conducting what the Army calls an emergency readiness measure.” Similar stories and images compromising the secrecy of the invasion appeared on CNN and NBC. At midnight, the Comandancia sent out a message to PDF commanders: “They’re coming. The ballgame is at 1AM. Report to your units . . . draw your weapons and prepare to fight.” Consequently, General Thurman ordered the special operations forces to launch their operations 15 minutes ahead of schedule at 12:45AM.

Because SOUTHCOM could not be sure of Noriega’s location at H-Hour, an emphasis was placed on cutting off his potential means of escape. If intelligence, radar, or AWACS planes discovered Noriega trying to escape by air, F-16 fighters or AC-130 gunships would intercept his aircraft and force it to land. If the dictator’s pilot refused to obey, the U.S. military aircraft, upon authorization of Secretary Cheney, were to shoot down the suspected aircraft.

In order to cut off another potential escape route for Noriega, two combat rubber raider craft departed Rodman Naval Station at 11PM. They silently crossed the canal in the darkness and tied up in a mangrove stand near the docks at Balboa Harbor. Two two-man SEAL teams slipped over the sides of the crafts, and using sophisticated scuba gear that left no trail of air bubbles, swam to their target – the Panamanian fast patrol boat Presidente Poras, which U.S. commanders feared Noriega would use to flee Panama. The SEAL demolition teams placed haversacks filled with explosives in the propeller shaft, set the detonators for 1AM, and quickly swam away to their extraction point. Above the water’s surface they could already hear the roar of the initial firefights erupting between U.S. and Panamanian forces. At 1AM the explosion ripped a hole in the Presidente Poras, rocking downtown Panama City as the vessel slowly sank to the bottom of the harbor.

As one team of SEALs was navigating the waters of Balboa Harbor, SEAL Team Four was coming ashore at Panama City’s downtown Paitilla Airport, where Noriega based his personal LearJet. At 12:45AM the 62-man force – comprised of three 16-man SEAL platoons and a command element led by Lieutenant Commander Pat Toohey – came ashore. The SEALs hurried up the trail from the beach and snuck through a hole in the airport’s security fence. Two platoons each started moving up one side of the runway, while a third platoon remained on the southern edge of the airfield to provide security. By 1:05 the SEALs had reached their assault positions in front of the three northernmost hangars. One squad of nine commandos lay prone on the tarmac in front of the middle hangar that housed Noriega’s jet. Another platoon was positioned just to the north, providing cover and observing the northern side of the airfield.

A radio transmission reported that three PDF armored vehicles were racing down the road that circles the northern end of Paitilla airfield. Toohey quickly ordered the northernmost platoon to move to the road to either ensure the vehicles passed by the airport or, if necessary, ambush them. As the SEAL team rose from the tarmac, a Panamanian guard in the northernmost hangar saw them and raised his weapon. A SEAL fired first, but missed. A split second later the crack of AK-47 fire echoed through the humid night as the guard fired a burst on automatic. The bullets ripped through the line of exposed SEALs, two of whom were killed instantly. The remaining SEALs dove for cover in a drainage ditch, but were struck by shots ricocheting off the tarmac, wounding six others. The SEALs in front of Noriega’s hangar unleashed a hail of covering fire at the northern hangar, which now appeared to hold at least two Panamanians, but their line of fire was obstructed by two small aircraft parked in front of the hanger. The third platoon to the south was ordered up to attack the hangar.

A minute of intense fire gave way to a heavy silence. The hangar was riddled with bullet holes, the Panamanians were dead, and anti-armor rockets had destroyed the cockpit of Noriega’s plane. But although SEAL Team Four achieved its objective, the price paid was steep: four SEALs dead and eight more wounded. The unexpected casualties from such an elite force shocked the Special Operations community and would remain a source of controversy for years.

Noriega's Lear Jet, destroyed at H-Hour+1, but at the cost of four SEALs killed.

In addition to cutting off Noriega’s avenues of escape, another critical H-Hour mission was to destroy the units that had come to his rescue during the October coup. The PDF numbered nearly 12,800 troops, but only a third of these could be classified as combat troops. Although the infantry units were judged “a well-trained and disciplined force at the small unit, tactical level,” they suffered from reliance on overly centralized command and control. The two exceptions were the 7th Infantry Company and Battalion 2000.

The black uniformed, bearded “Macho de Monte” (literally, “Mountain Men”) of the 7th Infantry were a well-armed commando unit trained by Cuban military advisors for a single purpose: to protect and, if necessary, rescue Noriega. They were stationed at Rio Hato about 65 miles from Panama City on the Pacific Coast, but as demonstrated during the Giroldi Coup, were able to rapidly deploy by air to the capital. The mission of attacking Rio Hato was given to the U.S. Army’s elite light infantry, the 75th Ranger Regiment under Colonel William F. “Buck” Kernan.

At precisely 1AM, two F-117A “Stealth” bombers, in their first-ever combat mission, swooped in at 4,000 feet to drop a pair of 2,000-pound bombs next to the 7th Infantry’s barracks. The idea was to terrify and confuse the Panamanians into surrendering quickly. Yet instead of stunning the Macho de Monte, the massive bombs roused the Panamanians from their beds and out of their barracks, leaving them better prepared to resist the incoming Rangers.

The Mountain Men moved into position, while 13 C-130 transports carried 1,300 Rangers from the 2nd and 3rd Ranger battalions into battle. As they prepared to jump into the warm, humid night, one Ranger recalled: we “just went around and started hitting one another on the head and got motivated, because if anybody deserved to be slammed, [Noriega] was the one. Because he was an evil man . . . There was no death wish, but we wanted to get him bad, and he deserved to be got.” The lights of the airfield and barracks were visible as the planes approached, leading the Rangers to think they had achieved strategic surprise. But as soon as they began to exit the aircraft, the skies filled with tracer fire.

The Rangers jumped from an altitude of only 500 feet, 300 feet below the standard training jump. This meant their main parachutes would open at just 100 feet. While limiting their exposure to ground fire, it also meant their reserve parachutes were virtually useless in case of a malfunction, and with their 100-pound packs, every Ranger was assured a brutal landing. Four soldiers were killed on the jump, and another 86 formed part of an “orthopedic nightmare” of broken legs and ankles.

Although the runway was cleared within 30 minutes, the fighting in the barracks area was intense. The PDF withdrew through the rear of a building and took up firing positions in nearby gullies or trenches. When the Rangers worked through to the building’s exit, the PDF ambushed them and withdrew to the next building to repeat the tactic. Finally, after five hours of room-to-room, building-to-building combat, the Macho de Monte had all either surrendered or melted into the surrounding jungle.

Rangers raise the U.S. flag after an intense battle versus Noriega's elite "Mountain Men" at Rio Hato

The other PDF unit that concerned U.S. commanders was Battalion 2000, an elite fighting unit of 200 mechanized infantry that had smashed the abortive October revolt. One of Noriega’s most loyal units, they were stationed at Fort Cimarron, approximately 16 miles from Panama City’s Torrijos-Tocumen Airport, which could serve as either an escape hatch for Noriega or an entry point for Cuban or Nicaraguan reinforcements. Thus, another critical H-Hour mission was to seize the airport complex before Battalion 2000 could secure it.

While 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment captured the airfields, elements of 3rd Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group (SFG) were tasked with conducting surveillance missions at Fort Cimarron and the Pacora River Bridge to monitor Battalion 2000’s movements. Major Kevin Higgins was preparing to take off in three helicopters with a 24-man element of Company A, 3/7th SFG, when an intelligence officer came running onto the helipad. “We just got reports that . . . a ten-vehicle convoy is leaving Cimarron Cuartel for Panama City,” he said. Higgins’ mission instantly shifted from reconnaissance to direct action, with the goal of seizing Pacora River Bridge and blocking Battalion 2000 from entering the capital.

As the helicopters approached the bridge at 12:45AM, the lead pilot spotted six PDF vehicles on the road. It was now a race between the Green Berets and the Panamanians to see who could get to the bridge first. The helicopters dropped Higgins’ element on the western shore of the river. His men quickly clambered up the steep slope to the road and found themselves directly in the headlights of the first PDF vehicle crossing the bridge from the east. The soldiers hit the lead vehicle with two light anti-tank weapons and poured machine gun fire and M203 launched grenades into the column. The Air Force Combat controller with Higgins’ element directed AC-130 fire onto the stalled column, driving the Panamians from their trucks. The battle continued for several hours, as the Panamanians attempted to outflank the small element, but Higgins’ men repelled all PDF attempts to cross the bridge or the river.

Pacora River Bridge, where 24 Green Berets backed by close air support held off "Battalion 2000"

Meanwhile, 11 transport aircraft approached Tocumen airfield in a straight line over the runway. At 1:03AM, the clear evening sky filled with the dark silhouette of parachutes as the 1st Ranger Battalion jumped from the planes. The seizure of the airfield was flawless, and once again, more Rangers suffered torn knee ligaments, broken legs, and other injuries from the low jumping altitude and unforgiving concrete of the tarmac than from hostile fire. As the other Ranger companies assaulted objectives held by the PDF, Bravo 1/75th was tasked to secure the perimeter and establish roadblocks around the airfield. Bravo landed on target and received only sporadic enemy fire as it quickly moved to its blocking positions. The biggest obstacle these Rangers faced were Panamanian vehicles ignoring its warning sign and barricades. These vehicles typically turned and fled once the Rangers fired warning shots. But one convoy of two hatchbacks refused to heed the warnings and hurtled towards Bravo Company at full speed. The Rangers took aim and shot out the front tires of the lead vehicle. The second car came to a screeching halt and turned around, disappearing into the night.

It would not be discovered until later that General Noriega was in the car that got away.

The simultaneous H-Hour assault on dozens of targets with overwhelming force decimated the PDF, who proved to be no match for American firepower and training, and had little stomach for a genuine fight. “Essentially, the leaders didn’t show,” said Major General James Johnson, commander of the 82nd Airborne. “The troops were deserted.” The Panamanians would typically empty the magazines of their rifles and disappear. The exception to this pattern was at the Comandancia, where elements of the PDF’s 6th, 7th, and 8th Rifle Companies, reinforced by two public order companies, vigorously defended PDF headquarters for a day. Resistance finally collapsed on the morning of December 21, thereby immobilizing resistance in outlying provinces as well.

Noriega's military headquarters, La Comandancia, where the incidents that finally provoked Operation Just Cause occurred on December 16, was one of the strongman's last bastions to hold out against U.S. forces on December 20.

American forces were greeted by the long-suffering Panamanian people as liberators. In Colon, one officer recalled, “the streets came alive as people appeared from every door and window, cheering us.” In a scene eerily foreshadowing the liberation of Baghdad more than a decade later, “People were out there looting their asses off. They had armfuls of televisions, pillows, anything they could get. When they saw us, they shouted, ‘Viva Bush! Viva the United States!’” Another soldier noted: “There was people out partying and waving U.S. flags and cheering for us. And then we would turn a corner and start heading down another way, and all of a sudden we’d start getting shot at.”

On the home front, however, the failure to capture Noriega dominated the perception of Operation Just Cause. At the first press conference on the morning of December 20, reporters wanted to know about Noriega. “If we did not catch him, what was the point of invading Panama?” they asked Powell. “Wouldn’t it make life miserable for the U.S. forces down there, a reporter asked, if Noriega was still running around in the Panamanian wilds?”

Powell assured the press that “we’ll chase him and we will find him. I’m not quite sure he’s up to being chased around the countryside by Army Rangers, Special Forces, and light infantry units.”

But the reporters persisted: “Could we really consider Just Cause successful as long as we did not have Noriega in custody?”