by Bob Woodward
The Nuncio, the Reverend Sebastian Laboa, met with Thurman and Stiner. He gave them a handwritten note that said if shooting started inside the nunciature, they were authorized to conduct an emergency assault to rescue as many people as possible and to minimize death and suffering.
Stiner went to his headquarters and picked up the hotline to Kelly at the Pentagon. He asked Kelly for new rules of engagement that would permit his forces to enter the Nuncio’s residence if requested or if shooting started.
The request was passed to Powell and Cheney, who approved, and within an hour Stiner had his new authority.
The next day, Wednesday, December 27, Thurman and Stiner ordered the troops to blast the nunciature with ear-splitting heavy-metal and other music, to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on SOUTHCOM’s negotiations with the Papal Nuncio. It could be heard for several blocks.
Other troops acted as if they were preparing the building for an assault. Tall grass and brush in the neighborhood was cut down to improve the view; street lights were shot out; barbed wire was laid in the streets; patrols of a dozen men paraded around the embassy walls; other soldiers took up posts in a parking garage some 50 feet from the back of the embassy; an Army Black Hawk helicopter landed several times nearby to unload troops and equipment; light tanks and armored personnel carriers blocked all the streets in the area.
Still, Noriega did not budge.
On Friday, December 29, Powell was watching a CNN report that U.S. troops had entered the residence of the Nicaraguan ambassador to Panama. The camera revealed a sign the size of a manhole cover showing unmistakably that it was the ambassador’s residence. On the sidewalk outside the house, Powell spotted the distinctive cracks made by U.S. armored personnel carriers. He was furious. Invading an embassy was out of bounds. International convention made such buildings absolutely immune; they were the equivalent of national property. The Iranian students had done this kind of thing in 1979 when they had invaded the U.S. Embassy in Teheran.
Powell called Thurman for some answers.
When there was no immediate reply, Powell knew there had been a screw-up. He raised the issue with Cheney.
“Well, okay, let’s get it worked out,” Cheney replied calmly, “but let’s not come down hard on our guys.”
When Thurman at last called back, he explained that they had intelligence that indicated the residence was full of weapons. The search had yielded four Uzi submachine guns, 12 AK-47s, six grenade launchers—the rocket-propelled type—and 17 bayonets. And, Thurman added, it was not clear it was a diplomatic residence.
“It’s undeniable,” Powell snapped. “I just saw it on CNN. Stop bullshitting me. We did it.”
Well aware that Thurman was spring-loaded, Powell had been able to live with some of the CINCSOUTH’s excesses. But now things were going out of control. Powell had a heart-to-heart talk with his commander about the need to make sure that they did not tarnish a brilliant operation through some minor incident in the aftermath. Powell now started to pull back some authority to Washington.
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At 8:44 p.m. on Wednesday, January 3, 1990, Noriega walked out of the nunciature in his military uniform and surrendered to members of Delta Force. When he was handcuffed, he shouted and cursed at the Nuncio, who was standing nearby. Apparently, Noriega had expected to be treated as a head of state, or a prisoner of war, and now he blamed the Nuncio for misleading him. The Nuncio blessed Noriega, who was taken by helicopter to Howard Air Force Base, where a DEA agent arrested him.
At 9 p.m. Cheney called Bush. Forty minutes later, Bush walked into the White House briefing room to read a six-paragraph statement announcing the arrest.
“The return of General Noriega marks a significant milestone in Operation JUST CAUSE. The U.S. used its resources in a manner consistent with political, diplomatic and moral principle. . . .
“I want to express the special thanks of our nation to those servicemen who were wounded and to the families of those who gave their lives. Their sacrifice has been a noble cause and will never be forgotten.”
The smoke eventually cleared concerning Noriega’s movements before he gave himself up. The U.S. trackers had lost the general around 6 p.m. in Colon. At the start of JUST CAUSE, Powell learned, the general had been at a brothel at Tocumen. When Noriega heard gunshots, he climbed into his trousers and jumped into an escape vehicle. Taking a well-traveled highway into Panama City, he disappeared into the city, where he moved from one hiding place to another, to houses of various friends and associates.
On January 5, Powell flew down to Panama to visit the commanders and the troops. The next day, in a meeting there with reporters, he emphasized the political result of the operation. “The most important mission we accomplished is that we gave the country back to its people.”
Why such a large force? he was asked.
“I’m always a great believer in making sure you get there with what you need to accomplish the mission and don’t go in on the cheap side.”
What do you think the impact of the operation will be on the debate on the cuts in the defense budget?
“Thank you for the question,” Powell boomed. “I hope it has a great effect. I hope it has enormous effect. . . . And as we start to go down in dollars and as we see the world changing, don’t bust this apart. . . . Don’t think that this is the time to demobilize the armed force of the United States, because it isn’t. There are still dangers in the world.”
He knew this statement would attract little or no attention. Nonetheless, he felt, Panama was truly manna from heaven.
He flew home glad that the operation didn’t look any different on the ground than it had from the Pentagon. There was no sign of buried secrets. The politicians and the media would have little alternative but to declare it a success. A CBS poll released that day showed that 92 percent of Panamanians supported the U.S. military action.
The next day, Saturday, Powell was out in the garage behind Quarters 6, immersed in one of his favorite pastimes: fixing up an old Volvo.
In the weeks and months after the operation, Panama resurfaced now and then in the news, often in reports of previously unrevealed flaws.
After complaints from reporters who were shut out of covering JUST CAUSE as the operation was under way, the Defense Department’s public affairs staff admitted it had botched its handling of the press pool. In a memo to the CINCs on this subject, Powell wrote that “otherwise successful operations are not total successes unless the media aspects are properly handled.”
An Army paratrooper was charged with unpremeditated murder for killing an unarmed Panamanian civilian at a roadblock on the fourth day of the operation, but was acquitted in a military court.
SOUTHCOM’s initial death counts for the operation, released in mid-January, were 314 Panamanian military fatalities, 202 Panamanian civilians and 23 U.S. troops. The CBS News show “60 Minutes” ran a report that as many as 4,000 Panamanian civilians had died in the conflict. Investigations by other organizations in Panama and the United States indicated SOUTHCOM wasn’t far off the mark, although it probably had overestimated Panamanian military deaths while underestimating the civilian total. The SOUTHCOM numbers were generally accepted.
When Newsweek magazine reported that as many as 60 percent of U.S. casualties may have resulted from “friendly fire” from U.S. forces, the Pentagon announced for the first time that friendly fire accounted for two of the 23 U.S. deaths and 19 of 324 U.S. injuries.
• • •
Powell settled back into a peacetime rhythm. Panama, the largest U.S. military action since Vietnam, was behind him. Now the focus was back on the military needs of the post—Cold War era. He spent many hours in his office, being briefed, working the phones, trying to come up with a strategy for change. He was sure that the best way to proceed was to trust his gut instincts, but he also had a collection of rules and maxims he used as a practical roadmap for each day of decisions. Many were on a list he’d drawn up, which he
both handed out to visitors and kept in the center of his desktop, on display beneath the glass cover:
COLIN POWELL’S RULES
1. It ain’t as bad as you think. It will look better in the morning.
2. Get mad, then get over it.
3. Avoid having your ego so close to your position that when your position falls, your ego goes with it.
4. It can be done!
5. Be careful what you choose. You may get it.
6. Don’t let adverse facts stand in the way of a good decision.
7. You can’t make someone else’s choices. You shouldn’t let some one else make yours.
8. Check small things.
9. Share credit.
10. Remain calm. Be kind.
11. Have a vision. Be demanding.
12. Don’t take counsel of your fears or naysayers.
13. Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier.
To the left of that list was an aphorism not for public consumption that the Chairman had written out by hand on a piece of paper: SOMETIMES BEING RESPONSIBLE MEANS PISSING PEOPLE OFF.
There was yet another axiom Powell tried to live by, especially in his professional life. He occasionally confided it, but it wasn’t written down. Powell didn’t need to remind himself of that one: “You never know what you can get away with, unless you try.”
PART TWO
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16
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IN EARLY APRIL 1990, the Saudi Arabian ambassador to the United States, Prince Bandar bin Sultan, received a call from his uncle, King Fahd.
Fahd reported that Iraqi President Saddam Hussein had just phoned to say that he wanted someone to come to Iraq to see him personally and discuss an urgent matter relating to America. Fahd wanted Bandar to undertake the mission. Bandar had been directly involved in the 1988 United Nations negotiations arranging a cease-fire in the eight-year Iran-Iraq War, and Saddam Hussein had agreed to receive him as the emissary.
Bandar, 41, had an absolutely unique position in Washington. Most ambassadors spent their time on ceremonies and the fringes of real power. Bandar had long-term friendships with Bush, Baker, Cheney, Scowcroft and Powell, having plied his backslapping irreverence and directness with all of them. This gave the Saudi royal family a channel into the upper reaches of the American government. Until Bandar had become ambassador in 1983, the Saudis had worked through obscure State Department officials. Bandar insisted on dealing with the top, cultivating personal relationships with those already there and with dozens of others who someday might be.
In 1981, before becoming ambassador, he obtained Vice President Bush’s assistance in pushing President Reagan on a large arms sale package to Saudi Arabia. During the first Reagan term, Bush and Bandar had lunch several times a year. Bandar felt that Bush had a balanced view of the Middle East and was not emotionally or exclusively attached to the interests of Israel.
An Arab Gatsby who gave big parties and extended himself to any individual or group important to his country, Bandar had taken Vice President Bush seriously, even when Bush was dismissed as a weak number two to Reagan. In 1985, at a time when Bush was being widely criticized as ineffective, the prince threw a party for the Vice President with singer Roberta Flack for entertainment. Bandar even went fishing with Bush. He knew that personal relationships pushed things through the pipeline faster than anything else. A Saudi fighter pilot for 17 years and a favorite of King Fahd’s, Bandar still walked with a fighter jock’s swagger. He fit right into the tough-guy, cowboy-boot side of the Bush administration. Bandar spoke perfect English and was steeped in American habits.
Working political and media circles with cigars, gifts, invitations, information, off-color stories and practical jokes (a full-size blow-up doll of a naked woman for one Jewish journalist he had befriended), the prince was smooth and attentive. He could be both boyish and ruthless.
Fahd’s latest request suggested that Bandar would have an opportunity to act as intermediary between Saddam and the United States, just the kind of task he enjoyed. He left immediately for Iraq in his private jet. At the airport on April 5, he was met by Saddam Hussein’s personal secretary, who pointed the way. But security personnel told both Bandar and the secretary that Saddam was in a different location than planned. The personal secretary told Bandar that they were not allowed to know Saddam’s whereabouts. The other senior government officials—even Saddam’s brother, the chief of intelligence—did not know. Only the security people knew in advance where to find their leader at any given moment. This arrangement made it difficult, if not impossible, for any other high-ranking Iraqis to overthrow Saddam.
When Bandar sat down with Saddam, the Iraqi president said he had requested the meeting because officials in the United States were grossly overreacting to his April 1 speech. In the widely publicized talk, Saddam had discussed his chemical weapons capability and threatened to burn half of Israel if he was attacked by Israel. The West, Saddam had said, “will be deluded if they imagine that they can give Israel the cover to come and strike. . . . By God, we will make the fire eat up half of Israel if it tries to do anything against Iraq.”
The State Department had called the speech “inflammatory, irresponsible and outrageous.” On April 3, the White House had issued a statement calling the remarks “particularly deplorable and irresponsible.” President Bush that same day had publicly said, “This is no time to be talking about using chemical or biological weapons. This is no time to be escalating tensions in the Middle East. And I found those statements to be bad. . . . I would suggest that those statements be withdrawn.”
Saddam told Bandar that his words had been misunderstood to mean he intended an offensive strike against Israel. He acknowledged to Bandar that he wished his speech had been different. It had been delivered to members of his armed forces at a public forum where emotions were running high, with people clapping and screaming. As they both knew, he said, it never hurt in the Arab world to threaten Israel, and so he had done it. Nonetheless, he had threatened to attack only if he was attacked. A surprise strike by Israel was always possible. In 1981, Israel had launched a preemptive air strike destroying the Osirak nuclear research reactor to the south of Baghdad, and the memory lingered. He did not want to provoke another attack, he said.
The Iraqi leader knew that the recent execution of a British journalist, Iranian-born Farzad Bazoft, in Iraq was also bringing him criticism from the West. But, Saddam said, the journalist had been spying, and they had found direct links between him and Israel.
“If I am attacked by Israel now,” said Saddam, “I would not last six hours. When I was attacked the first time [1981], I was in a war [with Iran] and I could always say I was in a war. And now if I’m attacked, people will not understand why this happened.” He would be embarrassed by another attack. There was an Arab summit meeting coming up, and Bandar knew Saddam was a proud man.
“I want to assure President Bush and His Majesty King Fahd that I will not attack Israel,” Saddam stressed. In return, he said that the Americans would have to work with Israel to ensure that Israel would not attack Iraq.
Since neither Iraq nor Saudi Arabia had diplomatic relations with Israel, Saddam was asking Bandar, who regularly had direct contact with Bush, to send the message and receive a reply through the United States.
“Do you want us to mention this to Bush as our observation?” Bandar asked, “Or is it a message from you to President Bush?”
“It’s a message from me to the President,” Saddam replied.
Bandar said he would carry the message back to the United States.
There was a pause in the conversation. Then, almost out of the blue, Saddam referred to what he called “the imperialist-Zionist conspiracy.”
“By the way,” he said, “we have to be very careful about this conspiracy because the imperialist-Zionist forces keep pushing this theory that I have designs over my neighbors. I don’t have designs over my neighbors.”
Saddam
did not name these neighbors, but Bandar interpreted him to mean the small Arab Gulf states such as the United Arab Emirates and Kuwait.
“Well, Mr. President,” Bandar said, “your brothers, your neighbors don’t suspect you. And if you tell me now that you don’t have designs, then there is no reason for either of us to worry about it at all.”
“No, no,” Saddam said, “but it’s important that we don’t allow the imperialist-Zionist rumormill or forces to get between us.”
Saddam then turned to justifying his verbal assault on Israel, though he continued giving assurances that he would not attack the Jewish state. Israel was the natural lightning rod for creating a crisis atmosphere, he said. It had been two years since the Iran-Iraq cease-fire, and the Iraqi people were getting relaxed. “I must whip them into a sort of frenzy or emotional mobilization so they will be ready for whatever may happen.”
Bandar left after four hours. He prepared an 18-page memo for his own records that summarized his discussion with Saddam. Bandar also reported to King Fahd, who told him to prevail on his personal relationship with the White House and pass the message directly to Bush. No intermediaries.
Saudi Arabia shared more than 500 miles of its northern border with Iraq. A friendly, stable Iraq was very much in Fahd’s interest. For years he had been vouching for Saddam, who shunned the moderate Arab camp. Iraq, like Syria and Libya, was an outlaw state frequently tied to terrorist organizations and accused of flagrant human rights abuses.
The Iran-Iraq War had provided an opportunity for the Saudis to bring Iraq closer to them. Bandar had acted as middleman between Iraq and CIA Director William J. Casey so Iraq could obtain highly classified satellite information about Iranian troop movements during the war. The Saudis had also signed a contract with the French for Mirage jets to be delivered to Iraq, and done countless other large and small favors for Saddam.
