by Bob Woodward
Cheney and Powell got together for one final scrub. They asked, if this had been the right moment, the right coup, one the United States could and should have supported, would they have been ready? The answer, unfortunately, was no.
If things were so bad that officers like Giroldi, a former close Noriega ally, had been willing to try to overthrow him, Cheney thought, others would try again. It was time to go back to the drawing board.
• • •
In Panama City, Thurman put his feet up, looked out his window, and identified a first step. If there was going to be a major fracas with Noriega, he had to get the U.S. dependents out of Panama. So he began issuing a series of requests to Washington for authorization to send the dependents home to the United States or to move them onto U.S. military bases in Panama.
He was summoned to testify at closed-door sessions of the Senate and House Armed Services Committees. After ten years of such appearances, Thurman felt confident about testifying; he’d learned the importance of doing his homework and dropping new tidbits to the legislators. In separate sessions of three hours each, he was faced essentially with a single question: Did we miss a golden opportunity? His answer was no. He presented the information that was available at the time of the coup, and the details from the after-action interrogation reports of those who had been eyewitnesses at the Comandancia. By stitching this together in a blow-by-blow narrative, he was able to show that at the time the coup liaisons were talking to General Cisneros, the coup was over inside the Comandancia.
“I’m going back to Panama and get me a good contingency plan,” Thurman told the senators.
Thurman had read the papers. It was clear that nobody—not President Bush, Cheney, Powell nor he himself—could withstand another failure, or perceived failure.
Twenty-two years earlier, Major Max Thurman had spent a year at the Army Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth. One of the lessons he learned there was that an officer had two jobs: first, to obey the explicit orders of his superiors; and second, to understand the implicit tasks that were part of those orders and make sure they too were accomplished. The higher up you went, the more implicit tasks you encountered.
The implicit task in Panama was simple: If it ever happens again, you better be ready. The “it” was not only a coup attempt, Thurman calculated, but anything that might suggest that George Bush, Max Thurman and everyone in between was not on top of things.
Thurman went to see Powell.
Is the planning on track with a new intensity? Powell asked.
A new intensity, Thurman promised. He was six years older than Powell, and until two weeks earlier had been senior to him. Thurman knew the rules and he was respectful, but it had been a long time since someone had ordered him around.
“You polishing up your plans and all?” the Chairman asked.
“Sure,” Thurman said, “that’s what we are doing. We get paid for doing that. We’re busy at it. When I get it done, I’ll report to you.”
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THURMAN ORDERED the more than 13,000 men and women under his command to wear their combat jungle fatigues with the irregular brown and green camouflage patterns every day. He had the soft-drink machines near the command’s intelligence offices removed, so officers would no longer congregate there, making themselves targets for PDF spying. He intensified the major Category Three and Four exercises, sending anywhere from 150 to 500 men out on maneuvers around Panama in boats, helicopters, tanks, amphibious vehicles and aircraft. At least one helicopter exercise ran every night. These exercises were designed to appear random, but many involved actual targets that might be hit if offensive operations were ever ordered against the PDF.
One night during the week after the failed coup, Lieutenant General Stiner arrived at Howard Air Force Base in Panama aboard a C-20 airplane. He and his key planners and commanders were all wearing civilian clothes so they might slip in unbeknownst to the PDF.
Thurman met with Stiner and said that he wanted them to refine the BLUE SPOON contingency plan down to the finest details—“to a cat’s eye,” Thurman said.
Yes, sir, Stiner replied.
Then you and the 18th Corps will rehearse it every two months.
Yes, sir.
Every two months for the next ten years. “I won’t be here but somebody will,” Thurman added.
On October 11, Thurman’s request for an additional deployment of military police was approved. Soon 24-hour-a-day police patrols were set up along some sensitive routes. Thurman ordered his helicopters to fly exercises to the headquarters of the PDF’s Battalion 2000, an 800-man force considered Noriega’s most potent and lethal, based at Fort Cimarron east of Panama City.
• • •
Powell was already intimately familiar with the PDF leadership. As Reagan’s national security adviser, he had spent long hours examining the intelligence files of PDF officers, looking for alternatives to Noriega. He’d concluded that there was no one. The top 10 or 20 officers were committed to personal power and wealth. There was no way the U.S. could support these thugs. In Powell’s view, only Colonel Eduardo Herrera Hassan, the former Panamanian ambassador to Israel, was a decent possibility; but he had been tainted, in the eyes of some Panamanians, by his involvement in several 1988 CIA coup plans that never got off the ground.
General Kelly’s assessment of the PDF was even harsher. He felt there was sufficient intelligence to conclude that all the top leaders were murderers or torturers.
Powell was not sure they were all that bad, but with the prestige of President Bush and the United States on the line, how could the military risk participating, even indirectly or by implication, in the installation of another power-hungry self-seeker?
It couldn’t, Powell concluded. He decided there was only one answer: the BLUE SPOON plan had to be made more ambitious. Any offensive operation against the PDF must be total; it must capture or drive out the entire leadership. Then legitimate civilian political leaders could take charge.
Powell issued a guidance to Thurman directing that the CINCSOUTH be ready to respond to a contingency in Panama on two hours’ notice with the forces already in place there. And for a full offensive operation against the PDF, the BLUE SPOON plan would have to be radically changed: Thurman would be given only 48 hours to mobilize for a large-scale attack—not the previous mobilization time of five days.
• • •
During the week after the coup, Powell had ordered Kelly and Sheafer to set up a small, secret planning cell in the Pentagon, consisting of officers from Kelly’s J-3 operations staff and Sheafer’s J-2 intelligence staff. This cell was to work closely with Thurman and Stiner and their people to make sure that every detail was shared and coordinated.
Traditionally, operations and intelligence worked separately. Powell now wanted them in each other’s back pockets. One key to a lightning offensive operation was making sure the U.S. forces knew everything possible about what they were attacking, as well as how they were going to attack, down to which squad would go through which door in which building. The planners were to make sure that each individual target folder—intelligence, maps, drawings, pictures, and all the specifics on the U.S. units assigned to hit that target—was up to date and briefed to those who needed to know. There would be more than two dozen targets.
• • •
On Saturday, October 14, Carl Stiner went to the Ball Camp Baptist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee, for his daughter’s wedding. During the reception afterwards, he was pulled away to take a call from the Pentagon. Stiner was to fly to Washington the next morning to give the Chairman an off-line briefing on progress to date on revising BLUE SPOON.
Stiner arrived at the National Military Command Center at the Pentagon, accompanied by Major General Gary Luck, 52, a short, gray-haired Army aviator and paratrooper. Luck was the commanding general of the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC).
Stiner told Powell tha
t substantial modifications in the BLUE SPOON plan were in the works. First, the conventional forces and the special operations forces were to be integrated under one commander—Stiner himself. He would give his orders directly to the various service commanders, including General Luck, whose special operations forces would be assigned to the most threatening PDF strongholds. These included the Comandancia, Battalion 2000 at Fort Cimarron, and the Modelo Prison, where CIA agent Kurt Muse was being held.
If he got the full 48 hours’ notice, Stiner planned to bring in perhaps 11,000 additional troops to Panama to supplement the 13,000 at the Southern Command. He felt it was important to go with the full force, which would allow him to strike simultaneously the targets his planners had identified. Simultaneity should minimize casualties, fully engage all PDF units, and ensure that the PDF leadership was dislodged. Stiner said he didn’t think there would be many fighters in the PDF—he planned to use special teams for psychological operations to frighten PDF troops and officers and encourage them to surrender.
The plan was set to be executed at night, Stiner said, and his instructions from Thurman were to rehearse so much that the Panamanians would grow numb watching ground and air exercises.
Powell asked what would happen if there was another coup attempt and the President decided he wanted to support it. He needed to be able to tell the Secretary and the President that the military had forces and a plan to receive Noriega from hypothetical coup leaders, or to abduct him.
The troops deployed during NIMROD DANCER in May could provide the short-notice force, Stiner said, and there were some special operations people on the ground in Panama who could respond to presidential orders. But Stiner emphasized that the in-country troops would not be enough to do all that was required. My recommendation, Stiner told Powell again, would be to go with the total BLUE SPOON plan.
Powell agreed.
• • •
The next day, October 16, Powell had Major General Luck into his office at 10 a.m. for two 30-minute dress rehearsal briefings. Five hours later, Powell and Luck presented themselves at the Oval Office with Cheney for presentations to President Bush on two top-secret special operations plans.
Cheney started the briefings by saying that he wanted the President to be aware of the special capability that could be in Panama nine hours after he ordered its deployment: four hours to assemble, and five hours to travel by plane.
The first special operations contingency plan was code-named GABEL ADDER. Luck outlined how he could go to Panama, or anywhere in the world for that matter, with a force of about 300 that could be used to rescue Americans or any other hostages. The team could also be used to abduct one of the drug lords or Noriega himself. Its specialty was forced entry into anything from a hostile country to a barricaded building where hostages were located.
The team included:
• A Delta squadron capable of overt or covert strikes during the day or night. All of it could be used at once, and smaller portions could also be deployed.
• A package of 16 helicopters, code-named SILVER BULLET.
• Elements from SEAL Team 6 for any underwater work or beach landing.
• Special intelligence teams to provide support for the operators. For example, one team of three listeners, code-named ROBIN QUART, traveled with sophisticated equipment that could be used to tap telephones without cutting into the wires, or to eavesdrop on conversations from a distance without having to plant bugs.
• A medical unit, a communications unit and a command and control staff.
In the second half hour, Luck presented the ACID GAMBIT contingency plan that could be used to extract Muse from Modelo Prison.
A month before, Bush had received a personal plea for help from Muse, in a letter smuggled out in a book. Powell was all too aware of the impact American hostages had on presidents. Overreaction to the plight of Americans held captive abroad had become a pattern. Powell’s approach to the hostage situations was to try to keep the response measured, and if possible, presidential emotions in check. But it was difficult. The CIA had created immense pressure for the military to develop a rescue plan, and Bush had made it clear that he would order a rescue if there was clear evidence that Muse’s life was in danger.
Luck showed aerial photos of the prison and the route a helicopter assault would take. He presented a detailed scale model of the prison in a box that flopped open, showing the downtown neighborhood in which the prison was located, the terrain, and the prison itself, including guard posts, entrances, exits and the exact location of Muse’s 8-by- 12-foot, second-floor cell. Muse had been held in solitary confinement there for six months now.
Luck gave a minute-by-minute, at times a second-by-second description of how Delta forces would make the synchronized assault and proceed to Muse’s cell by stunning the guards, perhaps not even killing any of them. Muse would be free and safely aboard a helicopter in nine minutes.
Cheney was not recommending an execution of ACID GAMBIT. The briefing was to demonstrate capability, and show that the Pentagon had responded to the requests for a plan from the President and the CIA. Cheney knew that Bush was under pressure on the Muse issue from CIA Director William Webster, who in turn was under pressure from covert-operations specialists. And the President was sympathetic, Cheney knew, to the CIA’s desire to avoid at all costs a repeat of the murder of Beirut station chief William Buckley. Like Powell, Cheney was sure that Bush would order a rescue if Muse was in jeopardy.
Nonetheless, Cheney had been working hard for months to dampen any enthusiasm for execution of ACID GAMBIT. The first reason was that Muse was not in any great danger, and was being fed and treated well. Second, a rescue would put everyone else in Panama on notice that the United States possessed this quick-snatch capability and was willing to use it. Cheney thought that there were more valuable targets—the drug lords or Noriega himself—for a snatch. To blow the capability just on Muse would not be wise.
In addition, Cheney believed that a high-profile rescue at the prison, right across from Noriega’s headquarters, would be a very direct affront to the PDF. As Cheney’s lawyers had warned him, there would be unforeseeable consequences from a decision to violate the sovereignty of another nation in order to release a single person under arrest for violating the local laws. A war could start over one man. If the sole concern of the U.S. government was Muse, a rescue would be reasonable. But there were thousands of other Americans in Panama, and any one or any group of them could become hostages or prisoners.
• • •
Some of the special operations forces dispatched to Panama in the spring had been sent back to the United States. Now Max Thurman wanted more. If he had to snatch Noriega or rescue Kurt Muse or some hostages on short notice, he needed the capability on the ground in Panama, not standing by at Fort Bragg waiting to be dispatched. By Friday, October 20, Thurman had requested and Powell had approved a secret deployment of a special operations team to Panama with Major General Luck commanding. Powell carried the deployment order up to Cheney, whose approval was required for any new deployment of troops anywhere in the world.
The reasons given for the deployment were: normal, prudent preparation for more Category Three and Four exercises; response to increased tensions; and enhanced capability to respond to emergencies. In addition, the exercises carried out by these forces, and others already in Panama, were superb rehearsals for actual operations.
Cheney was impressed by the contrast between Thurman and his predecessor, Woerner, who hadn’t wanted more forces.
Without argument, Cheney signed the orders for the special deployment, code-named NIFTY PACKAGE, and consisting of: a Delta squadron, the SILVER BULLET package of 16 helicopters, and the three ROBIN QUART signals intelligence listeners, plus Luck and his staff of specialists. The only major difference between this deployment and the forces called for in Luck’s GABEL ADDER rescue/abduction plan was that no SEAL Team 6 unit was included in NIFTY PACKAGE.
D
elighted to receive the extra forces, Thurman sent them on a series of intense, high-adventure night exercises that only resulted in some dented helicopters.
• • •
Army Chief of Staff Vuono worked to keep his hand directly in the Panama planning. He summoned Stiner and Luck, two of his own generals, up to Washington on October 27 for a full, private briefing on the changes that were being made to BLUE SPOON.
“This is a goddamn sophisticated plan here,” Vuono said after hearing the outline. At the outset, more than 350 planes and helicopters would be flying close together in the airspace above Panama. He urged Stiner and Luck to make sure they were coordinated. “You’ve got to do as much rehearsal on something like this as you possibly can.”
Yes, sir, Stiner replied. He was spending about one third of his time on planning and rehearsing for Panama.
To operate that many aircraft in such a small area at night, it was necessary to equip every pilot, co-pilot and aircraft crew member with super-sensitive night-vision goggles that would allow them to see almost as if it were day. With the goggles, they would be able to distinguish friendly U.S. troops from Panamanian forces, and avoid power lines, towers and other obstacles. To assist those wearing the goggles, there would be AC-130 gunship airplanes equipped with giant infrared searchlights. Circling quietly high above the ground, each could illuminate an area the size of several football fields.
“We’ll own the night,” Stiner told Vuono.
• • •
On Monday, October 30, Thurman signed a quarter-inch-thick document designated Commander in Chief Southern Command Operations Order 1–90 (BLUE SPOON). The plan was built around three principles—maximum surprise, minimum collateral damage (damage to nonmilitary targets) and minimum force.
That Wednesday, at 2 p.m., General Kelly and his J-3 planners went to Powell’s office and gave the Chairman a detailed BLUE SPOON briefing. It was Powell’s 30th day as Chairman.
