End of the Road Panama - Retirement Specialist

Chapter III consists of several stories mostly related to the Noriega era. First I am going to go back before the Noriega era and fill in some of the spots I left out of Chapter II, so let’s get started.

Omar Torrijos was a popular Dictator with the majority of the people. He knew how to capture their feelings with the little things. For example, when he made a public appearance he would have a bag of rice for everyone and, one time, he had a new machete for all the men. A machete is the primary tool for just about everything here in Panama. He also regularly went to the interior to help people in need and always took a Doctor, either medical or dental. On his final trip he took a Dentist to a small village that was only accessible by air. His plane crashed a few miles from the village and all were killed. Many rumors followed as is always the case. Some said that his plane was sabotaged by the Cubans and some said that a mysterious case of whiskey was placed on board just before the takeoff and it was a bomb. None of this is true. It was an accident. John Daly, who was the first person on the scene of the crash, personally told me it was an accident.

John Daily operated a Helicopter Service in Panama during the 60s. After Omar Torrijos came to power, he talked John into giving up his US citizenship and heading up the Panama government air operations. John told me that neither Omar Torrijos nor Manuel Noriega ever asked him to do anything that would comprise the fact that he was actually a North American. John was out on another mission the day Torrijos went to the interior and he just got back to the airfield when they got the word that the Torrijos plane had apparently crashed. He immediately got back into his helicopter and went to the area. He found the crash and quickly determined that it was an accident. John jokingly told me that he was an expert at crashing airplanes. He said that one time he crash-landed an airplane that had a sleeping baby on board and the baby didn’t even wake up. John died in 2001 but to this day, if John Daly’s name is mentioned in Panamanian circles, someone will jump at the chance to tell about how they knew John and the respect they had for him.

Noriega was not a popular Dictator like Omar Torrijos. The vast majority of Panamanians were against him and did all they could to show it. He had the troops and the guns, so what they could do was extremely limited. The first thing they did was organize a protest using whistles, pailas, and handkerchiefs - or whatever other white cloth they had on hand. A paila is a cooking pot shaped somewhat like a wok but much heavier. I don’t remember the exact times but I think it was 8:00am, 12noon, 4:00pm and 8:00pm. Every day, at those times, you could step out on your porch and the city came alive with people blowing whistles, beating on the pailas and waving their handkerchiefs. Other forms of protest were street marches in the daytime and car caravans at night. Thousands of people would gather and peacefully march in protest during the day. At night they would form caravans, filling the street and slowly drive along blowing their horns. Noriega soon put a stop to that by turning his Dobermen loose on them.

The Dobermen were not dogs. They were riot troops armed with shotguns, loaded with bird shot, and clubs, who did not stand back and block the march but waded into the marchers, firing on them and beating them with their clubs. They would enter houses without reason and shoot the people in the house. Before I go on, let me clear up one item. The shotgun loads they used were very light and not lethal unless you were shot at close range. Some were. One night a student of mine came to my house with a young lady who had been shot in the leg and thigh. Her house was on a street where one of the marches took place and, even though she did not go out of her house, the Dobermen broke down the door and shot her as she was hiding under a table. My student wanted me to take her to a military base for medical treatment. I told him it was too far away and too dangerous at that time of night, so I took her to a doctor friend of mine who lived very close. She told the doctor that she had a lot of pain and it burned a lot. He told her to drop her jeans and she was hurting badly enough that it didn’t matter who was there, she just dropped them. She had at least a dozen black spots that looked like big insect bites all the way from just above the knee to her panties and probably beyond. He immediately told her that she only thought she was going to die but she wouldn’t. Then he

told her that the pain would go away within the next 24 hours and to keep the area clean, put skin cream on it several times a day and the shot would come out in about ten days and heal without a scar. He said that was better than digging them out with a blade which would leave a scar.

The Dobermen would ride around the city in large open military trucks and set up roadblocks. They would take people to jail from the road blocks for no apparent reason. It seemed like hundreds of horror stories came out of those jails. One independent TV station tried to report it all so the Dobermen went in and closed the station down. Some newspapers tried to report it but the Dobermen closed them down too.

In the midst of all this, Colonel Diaz Herrera decided to come clean and tell all. He lived in a large house with a high wall around it in a very high end area of Panama City. Every day he would write a new confession or expose corruption that was not known about before. Every morning his people would stand out in front of his house and hand out the latest hand written blog. His house was on the route I usually took to work so I, along with hundreds of others, would pass slowly by and pick up the latest. One morning, I don’t remember why, but I took another route to work. When I got to work about a half hour later, I heard that the Colonel was under attack. I called home and asked the maid if she could see anything and she told me that there were two helicopters firing in the direction of his house. She said that she could see the bullets that one helicopter was firing. I did not dispute her word but later I realized that what she saw were tear gas canisters. Apparently the other chopper was firing a 50 cal. machine gun and opened a large hole in the concrete block wall which allowed the ground troops to enter. He was too high profile to execute so he and his family were exiled to another country.

On Friday night, the 17^th of December, 1989, I was cooking out in the back yard when I heard three cracks off in the distance toward the Panama Military Headquarters. Three rapid cracks could mean only one thing, an M16 rifle. The US supplied Panama with many M16s in the years before. The next morning I learned that three US Military Officers in a rented cart passed by the Headquarters on their way back to the base after having dinner downtown. They were stopped and harasse and decided to get away as fast as they could. As they drove off, one of the military guards fired into the back of the car and struck one of the Officers in the back. They took him to Gorgas Army Hospital but he died shortly after.

The night of the invasion, 19 December 1989 President Bush addressed the nation on TV and said that that incident was the straw that broke the camel’s back - or something to that effect - and that there was nothing left to do but put an end to the tyranny of Noriega. I was 100% in favor of what he was doing and to this day I am 100% in favor of what he did. However, what he said was not totally true - or at least not the whole story, which I can also understand. I believe the US knew what Noriega was doing and what his long range plans were so we started preparing for the invasion that we knew had to happen. About one month before the invasion, as best I can remember, a military friend of mine took me to the gate of an Army camp that was not on the map and I saw two air support buildings. An air support building does not have any hard construction that keeps it up. It is like a big balloon that is supported by 3 pounds of air pressure and you enter and leave through air locks. My friend told me that one of them was full of Apache Helicopters and the other was full of Sherman tanks and armored personnel carriers. At that time there were no Apache helicopters or Sherman tanks assigned to Panama, but they were there the night of the invasion. So, what I really believe is that we got ready for what we knew we had to do and then waited for the right excuse to do it.

The morning after the invasion started, an old friend called me and after telling me how happy she was, told me she thought her back door neighbor was up to something bad. She said there was a crack in the wall between her house and his and she could see what was going on. Finally I pinned her down to telling me what she saw. A back hoe dug a very large hole in the neighbor’s back yard which she thought was for a swimming pool. The next morning when she looked through the crack to check on the progress of the pool, she saw nothing but green grass. I told her to stay away from the crack in the wall and let me handle it. I knew there were military down the street so I started walking that way. Before I got to where I was going, a HUMV with a Sergeant (who shall now be known as Sgt. George) and three soldiers of lesser rank stopped me. Sgt. George asked me why I was out on the street. I said, “I have INTEL”. I think I heard that in a movie!!! He did not respond - except he told me to stay right there and he assigned two troops to stay with me. I don’t know whether they were there to protect me or to keep me from getting cold feet and running away. He came back a few minutes later followed by two men in civilian clothes in a blue double cab pickup truck. I got in the truck with them and we went back to my house where I tried to draw a map of where the house in question was located. They had been dropped in with the invasion forces from the US and had no idea of what they were looking at so we got back into the pickup and I took them to the house. After they saw the house, they took me back to my house and told me to please call again if I got more information. Later I was told that the same night the US forces moved in on the house and took several tons of AK-47’s and ammunition.

My son lived in the city at that time and we had been in constant contact by phone since the invasion began. He called the next morning and told me that a friend of his knew where another cache of guns was. I called the INTEL people again. They picked me up and then picked up my son who showed them where the second cache was. The same thing happened that night. The next day I heard that a man who lived very close to where my son lived was the second in command of the Dignity Battalion. I called my son and the INTEL people picked him up about midnight and he showed them where the house was. The troops were close by because in about two minutes they were all over that house. They took the man into custody and his garage was full from floor to the ceiling with guns and ammo.

The INTEL people told me of one man that was high on their wanted list so I called the friend who spent time watching her neighbors through the crack in the wall and told her what I wanted - since she seemed to have her eyes on more things than the crack in the wall. She called back in less than an hour and told me of two possible locations. I called INTEL and they came over to wait with me. When she called back she told me the location and described his car. She told me to hurry and if the car was not there he would not be there. We headed for the location and they called in the information. When we passed the location, his car was there and they kept going for about a block down the street and again called it in. Within a few minutes the troops were there, entered the location, brought him out, put him and his bodyguards in separate HUMVs and were gone. Not a shot was fired. It was so fast and silent; I don’t think the neighbors even saw what happened. It was not like you see in the movies where a hoard of screaming troops rushes in shooting everyone in their way. When you hear someone talk about the US forces being the best in the world, you can be sure it is true.

Sgt. George can best be described as a Soldier’s Soldier. He was tall, soft spoken and had the respect of his troops.

When the invasion started, I tried to sleep during the day and stay up during the night. The night after it all started, I heard voices at about two in the morning so I peeked out the kitchen door and saw several figures in the back yard of a house about 70 yards away talking to the person in the house. They were speaking English but that didn’t mean they were Americans. I yelled out and ask them who they were. They said they were US Army and they would be at my house in a few minutes. I told them to send one man up the steps and stop in front of the kitchen window. The man who stopped at the window was Sgt. George. I told him to come in and when he entered, and saw me with my shotgun, he stopped and told me that it would not be necessary. They were searching all the houses because many Panamanian officers lived just one street over and they thought they might be hiding in the houses on my street. We went upstairs and opened every door and no enemy was there. When we got to the bottom of the steps, Gypsy, my Pit Bull grabbed him by the pant leg. I grabbed Gypsy and told her to go back to the living room. He told me that he was more afraid of a Pit Bull than he was of the Panama military. We talked for over an hour and I told him that because it was Christmas time I had a freezer full of food and that he and his troops were welcome any time of the day or night to stop in for something to eat. About 8:00am that morning, Sgt. George showed up with a long folding table and several folding chairs which we put in the big room downstairs. My house became the best guarded house in Panama because, when a squad of troops came by, only half of them would come and eat, then they would go out and the other half would come in. Sgt. George was in charge of the security for a large area and he rotated his squads around so they all had the chance to pass by my house. A few days later he showed up with some boxes in his HUMV and told me that he knew my freezer had to be getting low and he could not let that happen. They loaded the freezer and also had loads of dry food. Troops are issued MRE’s (Meals Ready to Eat) every day but they couldn’t go back at the end of their shift with those MRE’s so they left them with me.

One evening, when some troops were having dinner, they were teasing this one soldier about being a hero but he seemed to be embarrassed about the whole thing. I finally got him to tell me the story. The second night after the invasion they were searching the Yacht Club which was a very big three story wooden building with a restaurant on the top two floors and a bar on the lower level. This soldier went down to the bar level and pushed open a door at the end of the bar. It was a locker room and there were 15 men sitting on the benches in their underwear but they still had their military boots on. They had put their clothes and guns in the lockers. As soon as they saw him, they put their hands up and he was credited with taking 15 prisoners single handed.

The bridge was closed to all but military traffic which meant that the food supplies to the interior were cut off. Most of the small food stores were completely bare. I had some beach property about two hours into the interior and one day my caretaker called and said that everybody in the village was out of food. He said that his friend, who had a large van he used as a school bus, was willing to come down and get food if it was possible. I told him it was not possible but to call back at 4:00pm and I would see what I could do. I told Sgt. George about it and he said to tell them to be at the bridge the next morning at ten. The next morning, Sgt. George arrived with an Army pickup truck following him loaded so high with MRE’s, rice and beans that the boxes were strapped down. He loaded the MRE’s from my house in his HUMV and off they went. A large family can cook two pounds of rice in the morning, mix the main entrée from an MRE and a half pound of beans with it, and eat all day plus give the kids a treat of the cookies and desert. My caretaker and his friend immediately became heroes because the village was able to eat well until the bridge was opened again. I never asked Sgt. George how he did what he did, I’m just thankful he did.

The day after the invasion, and shortly after the INTEL people took me back home, I got a call from Gorgas Hospital and was told that a friend of mine had been hit the night of the invasion and wanted me to come up to the hospital. I drove down to the road blocks at the end of the next street and told them what I was doing so they put a soldier in the van with me and he got me through the road blocks and then he got out. When I got to the hospital it was like one big ER everywhere. The staff that was on duty the night before was still there along with a few others who had managed to dodge the road blocks and gun fire. When I got to Ben’s room it was worse. The sheets were nothing but blood from his waist down. He was able to talk but he was so full of antibiotics and pain medicine that he spoke very softly and slowly. I told him I would be right back and I went to find some help. There were very few people on the floors because they were all downstairs helping with the wounded that were coming in, but I found an orderly and told him that we needed to change Ben’s sheets and bandages. He told me to go back to the room and he would be there as soon as he could. While we were waiting, Jim told me what happened. Ben and his men were taking a lot of fire so they ducked in where they could. Ben and his radio man plus one other soldier got inside a room that was just off the street. Ben was by the door and would pop out, return fire and then pop back in. His radioman was against the back wall about 8 feet away and the other soldier was against the wall across from Ben, also about 8 feet away. All of a sudden, a grenade was on the floor about 3 feet in front of Ben. Ben said “Oh shit”, put his hand over his crotch and the grenade went off. The grenade was close enough to Ben that it did not have the space to spread and he got the shrapnel in his legs and some in the lower abdomen plus the back of his hand that was covering his crotch. The radioman and the other soldier were far enough away for the grenade to spread and kill them instantly.

When the orderly got there, he had sheets, two big rolls of gauze, some cotton like pads and a very big roll of tape. I picked Ben up and held him while the orderly went to work. He stripped the sheets off the bed and the mattress was covered with blood so he turned it over because there was not time to get another mattress and there probably wasn’t one available. When he finished he put a plastic sheet on the lower half of the bed and I put Ben back down. He then told me to strip the bandages from of his legs, wrap the cotton like pads tightly around them, wrap them in gauze tightly and tape the gauze with plenty of tape and then take the plastic sheet away. He didn’t ask me if I thought I could do that, he just told me what to do and he was gone.

When I took the bandages from Ben’s legs I was sure he would never walk again. It seemed like most of the flesh was gone and you could see bone in many places. About an hour later a Nurse came in and said that Ben was being MEDIVACED to San Antonio hospital in Texas and then she said she had to change his bandages. Ben told her that I had already done that. She looked at the bandages and declared it to be a very good job. I was standing behind her and my head and chest were at least twice their normal size until she asked me if I was a Nurse. A few minutes later they came to get Ben and I took his clothes, helmet and boots and went down stairs to leave.

As an aside, when they started working on Ben in San Antonio, they noticed a small cut in his lower abdomen that seemed to be festering a little so they probed it and took out an index finger that was not Ben’s.

At that moment some Panamanian military officers started shelling the Quarry Heights Military base (which was just up the hill) with mortars. Some of the military were behind the trees and houses next to the hospital and the base, firing at anything that moved out of those locations. After I thought the firing had stopped, I went outside to go under the hospital to get my van and go home. A Sergeant ran up to me and told me to get back inside. He then asked me what I was doing there and where I was going. After I told him, he said “OK, but go over there, sit down and wait.” After about a half hour he came back and told me that the two HUMVs sitting outside were going past my street so when they started moving I should get in my van and get between them as they went by. I did that and about thirty yards down the street we started taking a lot of machine gun fire. A soldier popped up in the middle of the HUMV in front of me and returned the fire. I’m sure the one behind me was doing the same thing but I was crouched down so far in the seat that the rear view mirror must have been a foot over my head. Those HUMVs are not made of steel, it is some kind of alloy, and when a bullet hits them a little puff of white powder-like material flies off. It seemed like forever but in less than a minute we were out of the fire zone and, as we passed my street, I turned off and went home. When I got there I had three bullet holes in my car - two just above the back window on the passenger side and one in the sliding side door. Home never looked so good!!

PS: Ben is the Sgt. who called me on the day of the invasion and told me to go visit Grandma and after he got out of the hospital he came back to Panama for another tour of duty. He is retired now, lives in the US and we remain best of friends.

One day, when the INTEL people were at my house, one of them ask me if I knew how lucky I was. He then explained that captured documents showed that my complete street was going to be destroyed on the twenty fourth of December and another street in the town site of Diablo was going to be destroyed on the twenty third.

Here’s what was going to happen. Empire Street runs off at an angle from Amador road and is two blocks long. One block up Empire Street you turn right and 50 yards later back left again on to Croton Street and one block down you turn left and go back to Empire Street so Croton Street was one block long. At the end of Croton Street there was a gate that closed off a ramp that took you up to the Bridge of the Americas. It was used years ago while they were building the Balboa approach to the bridge. There was a similar street arrangement in Diablo. The plan was to come down Croton street and destroy every house and person on the street, break the pad lock on the gate at the end of the street and be out and gone over the bridge within minutes. When they told me about that plan it probably affected me more than anything else in my life.

The stories I have told are stories that I had a part in, or saw happen. There are hundreds of other stories that I was not involved in so I have chosen not to talk about them. There are a few stories I have chosen not to put down on paper but would be glad to tell them some evening over dinner - with you buying, of course!

Blake Spurlin 2543 Nassau Lane - Fort Lauderdale Fl 33312 954.772.2611 info@endoftheroadpananma.com	│	Fred Spurlin Apartado 1015-0651 - Rep. de Panama Panama 507.6520.9566 - Fort Lauderdale 954-636-2725
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