The Invasion of Panama: Prelude to War
December 1989. The invasion of Panama begins. Four U.S. military officers take a wrong turn in Panama City. Panamanian troops open fire. Marine Lieutenant Robert Paz is killed. Manuel Noriega—drug trafficker and CIA asset turned rogue—has just declared war on the United States.

Four days later, 27,000 American troops launch a coordinated assault across Panama, the largest U.S. combat operation since Vietnam. Their mission: dismantle the PDF, secure the canal, restore elections, and bring the dictator to justice. As the night sky fills with paratroopers, Noriega vanishes. This is Operation Just Cause. The hunt for the man they called “Pineapple Face.”

The Panama Canal: Hinge of the Western Hemisphere
To understand why the U.S. invaded Panama in 1989, start with the canal. The Panama Canal is not just a waterway; it is the hinge of the Western Hemisphere. It converts a 13,000-mile voyage around South America into a 40-mile sprint. Whoever secures the canal secures the flow of global trade and American naval power.

The Building of the Canal and the Canal Zone
The French tried first in 1881, fresh off their Suez triumph. Mudslides, engineering errors, and tropical disease killed tens of thousands; the effort collapsed in bankruptcy and graves. In 1903, the United States arrived with better engineering, disease control, and logistics. Washington bankrolled a Panamanian independence movement, funding rebels to break from Colombia while U.S. Navy ships blockaded Colombian troops.

In exchange for American support, Panama granted rights to build, operate, and essentially govern a ten-mile-wide Canal Zone. The canal opened in 1914. By the late 20th century, nearly 40% of U.S. container traffic passed through it. For decades, thousands of American families lived there—U.S. bases, schools, and law. By the 1970s, that political ground began to shake.

General Omar Torrijos and the Canal Treaties
In the 1960s and 70s, Panama fell under General Omar Torrijos, a populist strongman who nonetheless negotiated peacefully with Washington. The 1977 Torrijos–Carter Treaties promised gradual transfer of canal control by 2000 while guaranteeing America’s right to defend it. On paper, stability was preserved. But behind Torrijos stood a man the world barely knew.

The Rise of Manuel Noriega (“Pineapple Face”)
He was a quiet, disciplined intelligence officer partly trained by the United States. He built files on enemies and friends; inside the Panamanian military, his nickname was “Pineapple Face.” Manuel Antonio Noriega entered the National Guard in the 1960s after training in Peru and at the U.S. Army School of the Americas. He became Torrijos’s ally, assisting the 1968 coup that overthrew President Arnulfo Arias.

For loyalty, he was promoted to chief of military intelligence under Torrijos, bringing him close to the CIA. He became a paid informant, providing intelligence for U.S. operations against communism, especially in Cuba and Nicaragua. When Torrijos died in a mysterious 1981 plane crash—many suspected Noriega’s involvement—Noriega moved fast. Rivals disappeared; many were murdered.

By 1983, General Noriega took full control of the Panama Defense Forces (PDF) and turned Panama into a personal fiefdom built on bribery, torture, and cartel deals. Once a useful Cold War asset, the relationship with Washington was about to implode. By the mid-1980s, Noriega was not just a dictator; he was a liability. His intelligence service carried out surveillance, disappearances, and extrajudicial killings.

Human rights groups estimated over 100 political murders and hundreds of disappearances. Then, in 1985, came the crime that shocked the region: the abduction and decapitation of Dr. Hugo Spadafora, a beloved surgeon and fierce critic. His mutilated body was left near the Costa Rican border—an unmistakable warning. Oppose Noriega and you die horribly. The brutality shocked Latin America and set off alarms in Washington.

U.S. intelligence uncovered extensive evidence tying Noriega to the Medellín Cartel. He helped smuggle cocaine north and launder profits through Panamanian banks. Cash flowed into weapons, luxury residences, and private militias called Dignity Battalions—street enforcers loyal only to him. In 1988, a federal grand jury indicted Noriega on drug trafficking and racketeering. Panama was no longer a country in Washington’s eyes—its “asset” had become a wanted man.

Deterioration of U.S.–Panama Relations and the Annulled Election
Relations deteriorated quickly. The Reagan administration offered Noriega a deal: step down and leave Panama, and the U.S. would drop charges. Vice President George H. W. Bush opposed it publicly; Noriega refused. He cracked down harder. In May 1989, Panamanians went to the polls.

International observers, including the Carter Center, confirmed opposition leader Guillermo Endara’s landslide victory: 71% to 28% over Noriega’s hand-picked Carlos Duque. Noriega simply annulled the election and unleashed Dignity Battalions to beat opposition leaders on live television. Later that year, with U.S.-backed assurances, Major Moisés Giroldi attempted a coup. It failed; Noriega executed him and purged the ranks.

The U.S. reinforced its garrison in Panama, increasing troop presence and conducting exercises to prepare for intervention. Then, on December 15, 1989, Noriega declared Panama in a state of war with the United States and named himself Jefe Máximo. He claimed American lives were legitimate targets, boasting that enemies’ bodies would float down the canal. In a country with 35,000 U.S. citizens and U.S. troops guarding the waterway, it was a provocation no president could ignore.

American voices reacted sharply. “Strongman of Panama, Manuel Noriega, is the number one drug trafficker in the Americas.” “I’m an ex-Marine; they should go down and kick the hell out of Noriega.” Others warned, “It’s not America’s role to invade foreign countries every time we disagree.” Troops were placed on higher readiness, and the White House acknowledged the incident—no comment yet from Washington.

The Killing of Lieutenant Robert Paz and the U.S. Ultimatum
The next night, December 16, 1989, Noriega’s threats turned real. Unarmed U.S. officers returning from dinner took a wrong turn into a PDF roadblock. As they tried to flee, Panamanian troops opened fire. Marine First Lieutenant Robert Paz was killed.

A U.S. Navy officer and his wife who witnessed the event were detained. Interrogators blindfolded and beat the officer at gunpoint while guards sexually threatened his wife. The next day, President Bush ordered the invasion. The Pentagon’s long-standing plan, Blue Spoon, was slow and cautious. To execute a rapid strike, Bush replaced the commander with General Maxwell R. Thurman—“Mad Max”—days from retirement.

Operation Just Cause: Thurman Takes Command
Thurman scrapped the old plan and demanded overwhelming surprise and force, renaming the operation “Just Cause.” He put all 12,000 U.S. troops in Panama into battle gear, increased patrols, and accelerated the timeline from weeks to days. The military had five clear objectives: safeguard U.S. citizens, restore democracy by reinstating Endara, protect the canal, and bring Noriega to justice.

Massive troop movements began on Tuesday, December 19—the largest airborne operation since World War II. Over 27,000 U.S. troops from the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and Coast Guard deployed against 15,000 PDF soldiers, of whom only 4,000 were true combat troops. Over 200 aircraft, including C-141 and C-5 transports, executed the airlift while F-15s and F-16s flew CAP to deter Cuban or Nicaraguan interference.

General Carl Stiner, commander of Joint Task Force South, set H-Hour for 0100 on December 20 to exploit U.S. night-fighting advantages. As CBS News noted deployment movements, PDF headquarters ordered units to draw weapons, get into the field, and block runways. Detecting activity, Stiner accelerated the strike by 15 minutes.

The Launch of Operation Just Cause
Operation Just Cause began at 0040–0050 hours on December 20, 1989, with simultaneous strikes on 27 key targets. The U.S. moved in three lines of effort: airborne assaults to seize key airfields, direct strikes on Noriega’s command centers, and special operations raids on high-value targets, prisons, and intelligence sites. At Río Hato Airfield—home to two elite PDF battalions—the attack started with a first-ever combat debut.

Two F-117 Nighthawks dropped 2,000-pound laser-guided bombs 150 yards from barracks—not to kill, but to stun. Windows shattered; soldiers stumbled outside, half-conscious. Seconds later, Rangers of the 75th jumped from only 500 feet into a swirling night battlefield. Tracers stitched the drop zone; Noriega’s best fought hard. It took five hours of close combat to secure the airfield; over 250 soldiers surrendered over two hours.

Seizing Tocumen International Airport
Meanwhile, Army Rangers seized Torrijos–Tocumen International Airport’s runway, soon reinforced by waves of the 82nd Airborne dropping in unexpectedly. A Brazilian airliner had just landed, trapping 376 international travelers inside the terminal. Panamanian soldiers quickly took hostages, and civil affairs teams minimized civilian casualties while negotiating their release.

After a brief standoff, Rangers secured the terminal and freed all passengers by dawn. The airport and the country’s logistics hub belonged to the United States. To the west at Paitilla Airport, 48 Navy SEALs launched one of the night’s hardest missions: destroy Noriega’s private jet and gunboat to prevent escape.

Navy SEAL Mission at Paitilla Airport (Destroying Noriega’s Jet)
Parachuting in with Zodiac boats, SEALs landed in the dark. Moments before the assault, a disastrous miscommunication changed the order from destroying the jet to inflicting minimal damage—slash tires, cut wires. That vague mandate forced SEALs onto exposed tarmac, closer to the plane than expected. Panamanian forces, already waiting, opened fire.

Caught in a brutal crossfire, four SEALs were killed and nine wounded in minutes. Amid the chaos, the team reverted to the original plan and destroyed the Learjet with an AT4 anti-tank rocket, eliminating the escape threat on one of the deadliest nights in SEAL history. While that firefight raged, four SEAL divers executed a separate, silent mission beneath the waves against the gunboat Presidente Porras.

Destruction of the Gunboat Presidente Porras
Using rebreathers that eliminated bubbles, they planted explosives on the hull. PDF guards spotted movement and opened fire, dropping grenades and forcing divers beneath a pier. The SEALs remained hidden until the charges detonated, destroying the vessel. As they swam back, a large ship approached, forcing them to descend to 40 feet—risking oxygen toxicity from pure O2. Despite the danger, the divers survived and cut off Noriega’s maritime escape. The dictator himself was still nowhere to be found.

Attacking La Comandancia (Noriega’s Headquarters)
Next came La Comandancia—Noriega’s fortress-like headquarters in Panama City. The battlefield lit with tracers and tank rounds. Sheridan light tanks, airdropped for the first time in combat, pounded the compound. AH-64 Apaches made their combat debut, destroying positions with pinpoint Hellfire strikes. PDF troops fought back fiercely.

They downed two special operations helicopters and forced an MH-6 Little Bird to crash in the canal. PDF units and Dignity Battalions made a strong stand, igniting a heavy three-hour firefight. AC-130 Spectre gunships silenced machine guns and bunkers. Twenty-eight Army Green Berets pinned down the Tigers of Tinajitas at the Pacora River bridge, preventing reinforcements from the east. Sustained assault reduced headquarters to rubble and collapsed the PDF command structure.

Civilian Destruction and International Outrage
Tragically, fires erupted and consumed the nearby El Chorrillo neighborhood. Civilian destruction left thousands homeless and bodies in the streets. International outrage followed, demanding U.S. withdrawal. Concurrent with the attack on La Comandancia came Operation Acid Gambit—the rescue of American Kurt Muse from Modelo Prison.

Operation Acid Gambit (Rescue of Kurt Muse)
Moments before 23 Delta Force operators inserted onto the prison roof via MH-6 Little Birds, a sniper team killed the lights by taking out a generator. The prison fell into darkness. Delta breached the rooftop door with charges and took down guards in seconds. Twice they failed to shoot off the lock; a small C-6 charge blew the cell open.

Muse was freed, rushed to the roof, and flown off by helicopter. Enemy fire hit the aircraft, forcing a violent crash landing in the dark streets. Operators used an infrared strobe to signal an overhead gunship for cover. Within minutes, an M113 armored carrier arrived and extracted Muse and the team. Every man survived, marking one of Delta’s most celebrated rescues.

Noriega Evades Capture and Calls for Resistance
After the initial assault, Noriega was gone. From somewhere in the city, his voice filled the airwaves, calling for resistance and urging his people to fight. “To all Panamanians, this is General Manuel Antonio Noriega. We are in our combat trenches. We will keep up the resistance.” For several days, he evaded U.S. forces moving around Panama City.

Troops searched command centers, beach houses, and a mistress’s villa. The searches revealed the dictator’s bizarre world: over $8 million in cash, an arsenal of weapons, valuable art, a large painting of Muammar Gaddafi, Hitler figurines, and a pornography collection. Most chilling was a witch’s diary describing black-magic sessions with Brazilian practitioners intended to protect him. The dictator remained at large for four agonizing days; on the fifth, came a break.

Noriega Seeks Refuge at the Vatican Embassy
Noriega called Monsignor Laboa at the Vatican embassy—the Apostolic Nunciature—seeking refuge and threatening guerrilla war if refused. Given ten minutes to decide, Laboa gambled. He allowed Noriega to enter but intended to convince him to surrender rather than grant asylum. On Christmas Eve, Noriega, with four officers, surrendered their weapons and walked into the embassy.

The dictator was sequestered in a peaceful yet inescapable room, reading the Bible and pleading for passage to Cuba or Spain. The U.S. Army surrounded the compound to avoid violating international law with a direct assault. General Thurman ordered a psychological operation known as the Music Siege.

The Music Siege (Psychological Operation)
The Fort Psychological Operations Group erected massive speakers and blasted relentless rock music—creating a sound barrier to prevent reporters from eavesdropping on sensitive negotiations with Laboa. Tracks like “Panama” by Van Halen, “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses, and “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley played nonstop. The tactic drew condemnation from the Vatican and diplomats, who saw it as petty and irritating.

President George H. W. Bush expressed concern, and General Powell ordered Thurman to stop the music on December 29. At Powell’s urging, Panamanian democratic leaders appealed directly to the Vatican. After reviewing Noriega’s residences and learning of his witchcraft from the diary, Panamanian bishops wrote to Pope John Paul II detailing his crimes and urging release.

Noriega’s Final Surrender and Arrest
Final pressure came on January 3, 1990. A crowd of 10,000 formed a massive anti-Noriega rally near the embassy. Monsignor Laboa gave Noriega an ultimatum: leave voluntarily or lose diplomatic immunity—and risk mob violence if U.S. troops did not enter. After ten days of humiliation and fear, Noriega conceded at 8:45 p.m.

He walked out and was handcuffed by U.S. troops, then arrested by DEA agents on federal drug trafficking indictments. He was found guilty and spent decades in prison, returning to Panama in 2011 to finish his sentence. Jailed for murder, corruption, and embezzlement during the military’s rule, he died in 2017.

Guillermo Endara Sworn In and Operation Conclusion
Guillermo Endara—the rightful election winner—was sworn in under U.S. protection during the invasion’s opening hours. From invasion to capture, it took only 42 days—but not without cost. American casualties totaled 23 killed and over 300 wounded, including friendly-fire victims. PDF losses were 314 dead and thousands captured.

Civilian deaths remain disputed. Pentagon figures estimate around 200; Physicians for Human Rights claim over 300; the New York Times reported thousands. Destruction around El Chorrillo left thousands homeless. Looting erupted as the PDF collapsed; stores and banks were ransacked, and street gangs filled the vacuum until U.S. troops restored order.

Aftermath: Return to Democracy and Global Reaction
Panama began the long road back to democracy. “One year ago, Panamanians lived in fear under a dictator. Today, democracy is restored. Panama is free.” Global reaction was split. The United Nations and the Organization of American States condemned the invasion as a violation of sovereignty. Many Panamanians brutalized under Noriega felt immense relief at the regime’s collapse.

Panama’s Stable Democracy and the Canal’s Future
The canal transitioned peacefully to Panamanian control in 1999 and now generates over $3 billion annually. The country has maintained stable democracy for over three decades, with regular elections, peaceful transitions, and no return to military rule. When Marines and paratroopers returned home in early 1990, the Berlin Wall was falling and the Soviet Union dissolving.

The Legacy of Operation Just Cause
America entered a new chapter where quick, decisive interventions shaped doctrine. Months later, many of the same units—Rangers, SEALs, the 82nd Airborne, and Delta Force—deployed to Saudi Arabia for Operation Desert Shield. Some viewed Just Cause as a dangerous precedent; others saw necessary justice. But the operation sent a clear message.

The United States would defend the canal, protect its citizens, and not tolerate a drug-funded dictatorship in its backyard. Panama was small, but its lessons were profound. Was it all worth it? “I don’t know how to answer that. War is not a good thing; humanity should solve things without conflict. Yet I feel it could not have been solved any other way, and it was necessary.”

“After working with the Panamanian people, I feel it deeply—Dios bendiga Panamá. Hooah.” If you enjoyed this journey through history, consider subscribing to Clear and Present History for more documentaries, biographies, and untold stories. To support our mission, please leave a comment and press like. If you believe understanding history helps make sense of today, consider joining our YouTube membership.

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