Panama: The America's Best Kept Secret
 Author:
Piedro Cane - 2002
Formerly part of Colombia, Panama was founded with the support of
the United States in 1903, after Colombia refused to cooperate with
the Canal Project. Needless to say, the Canal Treaty was promptly
signed after their secession was complete.
The US Army Corp of Engineers
built the Canal between 1904 and 1914, with the zone adjacent to
the canal being legally considered sovereign US territory. In 1977,
President Jimmy Carter signed a treaty gradually turning over this
territory, with a complete US withdrawal set for December 31, 1999,
which the US lived up to, although the treaty still provides the
US with the right to oversee the security of the Canal if necessary.
Panama can celebrate
three Independence days; the first from Spain in 1821, as well as
from Colombia in 1903, and 1999 when the US formally left the country
to seek its future completely unfettered.
Panama is a country with
a fascinating history and a future that will be equally remarkable.
Panama's unique geography has made it part of world history since
the Spanish plundered the Americas and assured the country an integral
role in the world's future.
Ruins of Spanish forts
in beautiful condition abound throughout the country. Sir Francis
Drake's Fort San Lorenzo is positioned at the mouth of the Chagris
river, which was subsequently enveloped by the US Army's Fort Davis
(Fort Davis was developed into an eco-tourist site after the US
departure).
Aptly named for "Puerto
Bello"or beautiful port, by Christopher Colombus and his men
who sought refuge here from a storm in 1502, Portobello boasts spectacular
ruins with commanding views of the ocean.
The town of Portobello
was formally founded in 1597 and established as the port of entry
and exit for all of South America. Due to the amount of Spanish
gold going through this port, pirates such as Sir Francis Drake,
Henry Morgan, William Parker, and Edward Vernon often attacked it.
Sir Francis Drake, who died of fever before he could successfully
take the town, was secretly buried at sea, at the entrance to the
harbor.
Panama's geography is
a beautiful and varied blend, consisting of spectacular beaches,
virgin rainforest, lofty mountains, and an ecosystem so diverse
that the Smithsonian Institute established tropical research facilities
in country.
Equally diverse is Panama's
population, which consists of Indian tribes, Mestizos, a large expat
community for former Canal Zone "brats" often called "Zonians,"
as well as clusters of people from all over the world who have descended
from sailors who transited the canal from every corner of the world.
Panama is truly a melting pot of ethnicity, and the people are very
tolerant of foreigners and among the friendliest people in Latin
America.
From a commercial aspect,
today's Panama is a modern business center and focal point for trade
throughout the Americas. The country has a sophisticated banking
and telecommunications sector, which is second to none. This infrastructure,
combined with liberal taxes and business law, as well as its use
of the US dollar for currency, and strategic location, make it a
powerhouse for world commerce, particularly in the Americas.
While Panama may still
conjure images of the political turmoil and violence prior to the
US invasion, today's Panama is a model of political and economic
stability in an often-troubled region.
I arrived in Panama in 1987 as a 21-year-old paratrooper in the
US Army at Fort Kobbe, just outside of Panama City. I had already
served 4 years in the Army and had been stationed in Germany and
taken part in the invasion of Grenada. I was a bit apprehensive
about rejoining the paratroopers after serving 2 years in a mechanized
infantry unit in Europe, and rightly so. The 1st Battalion, 508th
Infantry (Airborne) in Panama turned out to be the toughest and
most professional outfit I was ever to serve in during my military
service. It was everything I could do to keep up with the unit,
but I held my own and eventually found a solid place as a fire team
leader.
The men in the unit were
mirrors of myself; very young, high spirited and dedicated soldiers.
We were oddly enough on our own. Our battalion, aside from a Special
Operations aviation detachment across the street, was the only army
unit to occupy Fort Kobbe, which was nothing more than a street
in the middle of an Air Force base with a parade field behind it.
By co-locating with the Air Force (an often unhappy relationship,
at least for the Air Force), we were able to load up and march to
a nearby airfield, ready to deploy anywhere in the Americas on short
notice.
While being highly disciplined
and strict, the unit often found itself at odds with the Air Force.
They understandably were not used to hosting a group of young men
who spent roughly 9 months out of the year living and training in
the jungle, only to come in for perhaps a 4 day pass before returning
to the bush. Despite occasional friction, the Air Force were great
hosts, and more tolerant than perhaps they ought to have been.
The unit had 2 Caymans
(a small form of alligator) for mascots that we kept in a pit outside
the barracks. In the old days the unit would parachute the gators
with the rest of the unit by rigging them in H-harnesses and taping
their mouths shut with duct tape.
The unit First Sergeant
was fond of assigning less well behaved soldiers to "area beautification,"
which was a polite term for cleaning and maintaining the gator pit
(while the gators were inside it. One team would keep the gators
from attacking the men who were frantically cutting grass or whatever
inside the pit). The 1st SGT had countless innovative punishments
for minor infractions. It was common to see paratroopers mowing
lawns at all hours of the night with night vision goggles on, or
men pulling guard duty in full riot gear at the position of attention,
to guard against people throwing cigarette butts on the ground.
And they had other equally humorous, but unpleasant, measures to
ensure discipline.
All in all, it was a
very hard, strict, but good life, and I was surrounded by men who
I to this day consider without question the most talented and honorable
people I have ever had the privilege to meet, let alone serve with.
We were all quite happy and were a modern day "Band of Brothers"
in the best tradition of the HBO special about the 101st Paratroopers
in WWII. They would have approved of the 508th wholeheartedly.
We marched till our feet
bled, went with an average of 4 hours of sleep on a good night,
carried loads that literally drew spots of blood on your back, and
lived on one cold ration a day. We knew the jungle very well and
it was our friend (most of the time). However, these were troubled
times from a political standpoint. Washington was trying to get
Panama's military strongman, Manuel Noriega, to step down. A drug
dealer and con man who played all sides, Noriega thumbed his nose
at the United States and was indicted for drug trafficking in Miami
approximately 6 months after my arrival. Shortly after this the
city police chief of Panama led an unsuccessful coup to oust Noriega.
The US and the unit were not involved, but it was an omen of the
troubled times to come.
Training took on an even
higher tempo with the onset of troubles. The Panamanian Defense
Forces, a one-time ally of ours, rapidly became the enemy. There
was a lot of saber rattling and countless incidents of harassment
against American civilians by the PDF.
At this time, I was assigned
to a Scout unit which specialized in reconnaissance, sniping and
special missions.
The situation rapidly
deteriorated with all kinds of political bickering. There were numerous
American civilians in Panama, most working for the Panama Canal
Commission, as well as military families. Roads were blocked by
the PDF, only to have our unit (the 193rd Infantry Brigade) arrive
armed to the teeth to challenge them and clear the way. Weapons
were loaded and aimed at each other on an almost daily basis for
over a year before the invasion finally took place.
The PDF grew more and
more sinister in their structure and actions. Their "police"
pulled over buses full of young American school children and detained
them for hours, pointing automatic weapons in the faces of children.
Americans were stopped at random, beaten, threatened, and even sexually
assaulted by the so-called "police."
The Commanders sent families
home and made Panama a one year long hardship tour. The number of
incidents skyrocketed and after seeing the bus of schoolchildren
being threatened by the PDF, I decided to stay for the duration
and grew to hate the PDF and dream of revenge.
A second coup was launched
against Noriega, this time by Major Giraldi, the Commander of the
Presidential Guard, and his men, while the PDF were conducting a
major training exercise far away from Panama city. The Major seized
Noriega and asked Washington for US assistance. We were moved into
blocking positions to slow the return of the forces that were training
while Washington tried to decide what to do.
Fearing a trap designed
to embarrass the US, the White House held us in check. My unit was
close to the spot where they held Noriega, and we stood by helpless
to act and with immense frustration while the PDF's Special Forces
surrounded the rebels and freed Noriega. Noriega had promised Major
Giraldi and his men freedom and fair treatment, yet executed them
as we stood by with orders not to help as the gunfire echoed to
our front. One young soldier told me it was going to rain anytime.
Since there were clear skies, I asked him why he said that. "Can't
you hear the thunder?" he replied. The poor soldier's eyes
turned into saucers when I told him that the "thunder"
was mortar shells going off.
Morale grew lower and
the hatred festered. We were looking like cowards to the Panamanians,
regardless of the political logic (and I do not contest it). Tension
in the country was tangible. You were not allowed to go downtown,
or move from post to post, except on official business, and this
was generally done in convoys with heavily armed escorts consisting
of HUMVEEs with machine guns and at least a platoon of heavily armed
infantry.
Noriega freed criminals
from the prisons and put them through a military basic training
run by Cuban Special Forces and named them Dignity Battalions. We
called them "DINGBATS." The entire Panamanian government
by now consisted of a load of crooks and thugs, heavily involved
in the drug trade. Noriega was losing it. He was relying on the
advice of a Brazilian witch and displaying pictures of Adolph Hitler
in his quarters.
Jimmy Carter arrived
to observe elections. Noriega shipped groups of the PDF from polling
booth to polling booth so they could vote several times. The election
was not only declared rigged, but Noriega still lost. His own men
voted against him; however, he still had the support of many who
had tied their fate to him and would surely be imprisoned, or worse,
if he fell. The Dignity Battalions were loyal as only crooks can
be to other crooks.
Training continued, as
did "sand flea" operations, where we would mount up and
move through the country daring the PDF to get in the way. They
would block us and we would threaten them with loaded weapons, and
vice versa. Miraculously, there never was an accident that would
have kicked off the little war. The Panamanians would line the streets
for miles and cheer us as we confronted the PDF, who were completely
hated by their own people.
Training was very good.
We fired countless weapons on very realistic and challenging ranges.
We were very, very good with any weapon, any type of operation,
and we all wanted a piece of the PDF very badly. We reconned targets,
practiced, sharpened our bayonets, and waited.
Finally, the PDF arrested
an American officer and his wife. They were physically abused for
no reason and an American who had witnessed their abduction was
murdered by PDF as he tried to flee. Washington could wait no longer
and finally unleashed us under the command of General Marc Cisneros,
a soldier's soldier, and General "Mad Max" Thurman, who
had terminal cancer at the time of the planning.
The operation was a stunning
success. This was old-fashioned close up infantry combat in the
cities. There was never any question about our motivation, instead
of fear there was tangible relief that we were finally getting to
do the right thing. The PDF felt otherwise.
For the most part, they
did not want to die to support a group of drug dealers. Most PDF
officers immediately fled, leaving their men to their fate while
they tried to get out of the country with false passports and drug
money.
At the end of the operation,
the score was roughly 27 US killed with 300 wounded, and 300 PDF
killed in action although many Panamanians say the number was much
higher, and I hope it was. Our main regret was that they didn't
fight longer.
We found out some time
later that the operation had been named "Just Cause."
The title was more than appropriate. We got our payback and the
Panamanian people rejoiced in the streets and were free again.
The invasion ended and a period of rejoicing followed. The Panamanian
Special Forces headed to the hills and formed a group called "M
20" with ambitions of leading a guerilla war against the US.
They chose M 20 hoping to model themselves after the Colombian M
19 movement that caused numerous problems south of the border. Fortunately,
their grandiose dreams were not destined to succeed.
With some of the restrictions
eased following the invasion, we were able to go downtown once again,
and I being an old timer showed some of the men around. One evening,
I took several people to a popular bar run by some friendly Israelis
called "My Place." It was conveniently located near the
University of Panama, which assured a "Target Rich Environment."
(We are talking off duty targets here.)
There were several people
from the unit already there and, after a brief stay, I made my way
back to the base with a buddy. About one hour after we left, M 20
threw a hand grenade in the bar, injuring several people and killing
one of our radio men who I will not name out of respect for his
privacy. He was 19 years old and his wife was 8 months pregnant.
The hunt for M 20 began
in more earnest for us after this incident. Desert Shield had begun
in Saudi Arabia and while many of us volunteered, we were not allowed
to go since there was still some cleaning up to do in country. M
20 did not fare well in their plans.
They had no public support
and no access to drug money. After spending about 6 months working
as a scout in a four man team, tracking them down as part of a Brigade
effort largely overseen by 7th Special Forces group, we captured
or killed their leadership, and the wannabe guerillas died a fitting
death; without a tear shed by their own people for them. This was
a great time professionally, working for 7th Group was a tremendous
experience, as was working in such remote conditions. We were often
hours away from any type of air support. Just four men with rifles
and rucksacks scouting for the bad guys in areas where the Indians
didn't even speak Spanish.
We returned more or less
to the barracks life with a lot of security patrols and guard duty,
which is not good for a unit on an extended basis. By now I had
been in country about 3 years, with hardly a break in live operations.
The outstanding veteran leaders and men all seemed to rotate out
at once and were replaced by "leaders" who, despite being
infantry in name, had hidden out in boot licker assignments such
as the Pentagon, or as drill sergeants their entire careers without
ever serving in a real line infantry unit.
The regime went from
intense training and a real mission, to having a high-ranking maggot
give you a hard time because he found toothpaste residue on your
toothbrush. Downsizing was the new thing, there was no money to
train and the Cold War was ending. It was not only difficult to
accept but I decided that after 8 years of service it was time to
move on before I wound up in prison for beating our new puke 1st
SGT to death. I have never seen a more useless individual in my
life and despite his being universally despised by the men, he had
us by the balls. (See HBO's Band of Brothers and pay attention to
CPT Sink, their first CO; this guy had to be his retarded younger
brother.)
The only other item of
interest to happen during this period of time was when Major Herrera,
formerly of the PDF, pulled a coup at the Ancon Police station which
my unit had destroyed during the invasion (unfortunately I don't
have a picture, but it was a good fight). The unit launched a counter-coup
against him and with minimal effort, shut him and his numbnuts down,
and locked them away in jail.
Author: Piedro Cane
Contact: news@polosbastards.com
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