Commentary : A Witness to the Panama Invasion: Fear and Pride Lived Side by Side

What has traditionally been a silent, holy night--the early hours of Christmas morning--was this year a night filled with the sounds of AC-130s (Spectras), fighter planes and helicopters flying all over Panama City and the American military bases.

Although there wasn’t as much shooting that night as the previous nights, the mood and spirit of Christmas was different. Midnight Mass had been canceled. Only two days earlier, the church, a quarter-mile from the house at Albrook Air Force Station where we were staying, had taken a hit. Albrook was completely dark; even the antique lampposts in the streets had been destroyed for our safety.

Christmas this year, when my family and I were visiting Panama, was a time for anticipation, thanksgiving and hope. I had never been so proud to be an American and to have witnessed such an event, even though our lives were at serious risk. The execution of the mission was superb, and our soldiers handled the operation with precision. Most importantly, I was overwhelmed with joy to see the happiness that filled the Panamanian people’s hearts, knowing that the threat, power and rule of former dictator Manuel Noriega finally was over.

The memories of excitement and yet horror of that early morning of Dec. 20 are so vivid in my mind that I still feel anxiety and fear. I wondered then if I would ever live to tell of the traumatic event.

I was in bed, not yet asleep, when I heard several gunshots at approximately midnight. I ran into my parents’ bedroom in our friend’s house and found them asleep. I figured that the gunshots might have been my imagination, since I had been told earlier that evening that something might happen.

On our trip to Panama only a few days earlier, a military officer warned me that “once an American gets killed by Noriega’s men, the United States will have reason to intervene.” In fact, the morning after the Marine officer had been killed, I was shocked to see around 30 or 40 troops in front of the military base church while Mass was being said. One could feel the tension in the air, and it seemed inevitable that “something” was going to happen.

Around 12:45 a.m., I knew it wasn’t my imagination. All I could hear was boom, boom, boom. At first I was excited, singing and jumping for joy, because I knew that this was what the Panamanian people had prayed for for so long. Being part Panamanian, I could understand the hopes for a new beginning that could now be within reach for Panamanians. The thought of bringing back democracy to Panama, where people could live a life different from the one they had been forced to live for the past 21 years, was exhilarating.

Filled with all this excitement, I at first ignored the fact that that my life was in danger. I naively felt as though I was an outsider looking into a glass bubble where I could see endless tracers flying through the sky about a third of a mile from the house. The explosions of buildings, including the Transcito (a building used by the Panama Defense Forces), lighted the sky like fireworks.

We ran downstairs to the outside carport beneath the house to get a better glimpse. The house was within 100 yards of the Albrook flight line. We were there for only a few minutes when a combat-ready soldier ran by and ordered us to get back into the house and stay low. After we went back upstairs, our friend, a priest, with whom we were staying, told us: “I have already asked the Lord to forgive all your sins.”

It was the combination of these two incidents that made me realize that there wasn’t a “glass bubble” separating us from the invasion. Suddenly, I was shocked, imagining the possible consequences of this event and at the same time having flashbacks of my life. I felt like I was living a horrible nightmare.

As the next days went by, we avoided windows and doors, kept almost all the lights out and practically crawled everywhere. It was also virtually impossible to sleep at any time because of the anxiety. By Friday morning, we felt it was safe enough to take a peek outside and get some fresh air. When we heard automatic gunfire echoing around us, we realized we had experienced a false sense of security. Several troops ran by and asked us to go upstairs and keep low. We then heard mortars exploding; our troops were retaliating against and neutralizing some snipers.

Later that day we found out that an American-dependent wife had been killed several doors down from our house. The only time our family really ever got out of the house, until we came back to the United States, we saw armored carriers and vehicles driving all around Albrook Air Force Station.

I’m sure that many people question the necessity of this invasion. I honestly think it was Panama’s last hope. When we first arrived, I have to admit that the environment had changed drastically since our family’s last visit only three years earlier. As we drove from Howard Air Base to Albrook, I saw areas that once were controlled by the U.S. military, including the “Ferrocarril” (a railroad station), Balboa and perimeters of the American bases, practically in ruins. When our family was stationed in Panama in the late 1970s, I remembered all these areas as being in immaculate condition.

I felt sadness in my heart to see how this country, which once was so beautiful and full of life, now was going downhill. Most, if not all, Panamanians blame this on one person--Noriega--and the corruption of his reign.

The attitudes of the Panamanians had also changed. It is alleged that, in the past, people who opposed Noriega mysteriously disappeared. Of those, many were threatened, tortured and killed by his men. This intimidation led to the oppression of the people. Within the past several months, a few of my relatives in Panama were threatened and detained for no apparent reason. I am grateful to be able to say that they are safe and doing well now.

However, with the continuous oppression of the Panamanians and endangerment of American lives, something had to be done. It is important to note that once the invasion took place, the vast majority of Panamanians not only praised our soldiers for being there, but also helped identify which Panamanians were “pro-Noriega” and which weren’t.

Even now when I look back on this historic event, the images are still fresh in my mind. In fact, when I arrived at Kelly Air Force Base on our return to the States, and even since I have been back home in Orange County, it has been hard to sleep peacefully at night. The planes I heard flying out of Kelly and even now those from John Wayne Airport remind me of the same AC-130s, fighter planes and helicopters back in Panama.

But, regardless of the anxiety I still encounter, I am thankful to have been able to witness the U.S. invasion of Panama and to have returned safely. Although the Panamanians didn’t have a “silent night” this Christmas, they had much to rejoice about. They received the greatest gift of all--the end of a dictator’s reign and corruption and the return of democracy to Panama.