Clean Break
Member
I was in Charlie Co. of the 4/17th. 7th Infantry Divison based out of Ft. Ord, CA from 1988-1990. I was a Specialist E-4 mortorman, 11-C (High Angle Hell!). I qualified Expert at Ft. Benning with the rifle hitting 37 out of 40 human sized targets that flipped up over ranges from 25 - 300 meters,open sights. I later qualified expert with the Beretta and mortar, only Sharpshooter with hand grenades.
1989 was a big year in my life. We went to Jungle Operations Training School at Ft. Sherman, Panama in January of 1989. I liked it. I liked the humidity, the birds and butterflies. The people were nice. I didn't like the monkeys. They pooped into their hands and threw it at us from the high limbs above. They must've known we didn't carry live ammo. I proposed to my girlfriend over the single outdoor telephone that all of the soldiers waited in line to use.
Once home, we got married on April 14, 1989.
Back in the states we went to Ft. Bragg for a huge field training exercise. That was when Hurricane Hugo hit. It was impressive. It was the most damaging storm in some time and I was in the teeth of it, outdoors when it hit. I remember swallowing a live toad whole, just to try and out-do some buddies while we waited things out. Infantry does that kind of thing.
Once we returned to Ft. Ord, it wasn't long until the big San Francisco earthquake hit (it's epicenter was actually in Watsonville, much closer to Ft. Ord than San Francisco). I remember the concrete walls bending like a sheet, thrown across the bed, rippling energy surging along the whole length of the barracks, bending it like butter.
Things heated up down south. Ft. Ord was known as the "Gateway to Central America". We were always on alert, ready to be anywhere in the world within 24 hrs. I had to miss both of my sisters' weddings because we were on alert status.
We were sent back down to Panama. We had to go through Jungle Operations School again, just 6 months or so after the first time. I saw the 350 lb. pet anaconda in the swimming pool at Ft. Sherman. I never saw it eat goats on Tuesdays though.
the Canal and some local Indian art I bought:
Me, getting ready for a training mission, waiting on a Blackhawk helicopter:
We lived in Christobal High School (an active high school, with part blocked off for us) in Coco Solo. We monitored Noriega's Navy that was located right near us. We watched them.
We landed in Chinook 47 helicopters at the Gamboa Golf course.... old dudes scattered, towing their clubs. We marched to a PDF (Panamanian Defense Force) road block, testing their resolve to not let us pass.... the half dozen of them locked and loaded their .50 and .30 cals and pointed them at us..... 120 of us trained our M-16s, M-60s, M-203 grenade launchers and M249 Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs), Dragons, AT4s & LAWs at them (anti-tank recoiless rockets). They blinked. We walked through.
Things heated up. We messed with their guys, they messed with ours; some died. Noriega declared war on the U.S. The next night, Captain Rizzo, commanding officer of Charlie Company had us assemble in the hallway. He said "Tonight men, you are going to make history". He laid out our plans to attack.
It was December 19, 1989.
We had three hours to kill. Back at our bunks, Sgt. Daniels turned on "Sympathy For the Devil" by the Rolling Stones as we daubed on the green and black war face paint and cleaned the weapons one more time. We hadn't got mail for a week but it came that night. Grodziak got a care package from his mom. It had a plug in Christmas tree about a foot high. We all liked that. I got a letter from my new wife of about six months. She said she felt our baby move for the first time. That is heady news for a first time father and a soldier about to go in to battle. Some guys wrote their will. I got ready. Beretta 92, LAW (light anti-tank weapon) M16 A-2, hand-grenades, kevlar helment and flack jacket were standard equipment for me on patrols. I weighed my gear once. I never carried less than 72 pounds. This is the photo I thought might be my last, a strong soldier named Fred Butler took it. Grenade and Law in plain view.
I took one of Fred too. We wrestled once. It didn't work out for me very well. He was a great guy.
We lined up across the soccer field from the PDF barracks. We saw they had a beautiful Christmas tree all lit up by their Command Post entrance. The 2 vulcan guns were ready as well as all of our armament. 1st Platoon was in position out by the docks to ambush them if they tried to mobilize to their boats. We attacked for two minutes. The guys by the tree were the first to go. Sgt. Ortiz got on the bullhorn and told them to surrender.... they returned fire. We hit them again and again offered a chance to surrender.... they did not. We swept through the building. Fighting got intense on the docks.
Grodziak, my mortar buddy. The girls would say "oooh, azul oho!!!" (oooh, blue eyes).
Glad to be alive with my best friend Robert Coulter, a Ranger:
I could hear Sgt. Daniels screaming he'd been hit in the leg. Later I saw him while the medics readied him for evacuation. He was doped up and laughing on morphine, showing me the ammo pouch that was shattered from the AK-47 rounds, only one of which hit him in the hip.
The following days we slept on concrete and patrolled Coco Solo and then Colon, the largest city of Panama on the Atlantic side. I shot the tires out of a bus to keep the loot it was loaded with from leaving the store where it had been loaded. At one point I was put in charge of the prisoners. We locked them in the high school tennis courts. Our "torture" was to give them the MREs (meals, ready to eat) that we didn't like - generally it was the dreaded pork patty or barbecue beef conglomerate.
In all of the patrols we made I only heard one negative comment "Yankee go home". Most of the Panamanians were glad we were there and glad to be rid of Noriega. I was at a guard post when a neighborhood official arrived and presented a Christmas Card to the U.S. Army. It was signed by over 300 people. I sent it up the chain of command. I was interviewed by some reporter and a relative heard it on the radio back home in the South. It was weird to watch Tom Brockaw of NBC news tell us how it was in Panama at night on the television. He was generally wrong.
The locals of Coco Solo liked us so much the school threw us a pep rally.
The inveterate Rolling Stones fan, I had to take a pic of this bus:
After the initial conflict, there was a lot of looting by the people there. I remember seeing refrigerators going by the street on skateboards.... kids with 50 Addidas around their necks. Everywhere we stopped families would send their young daughters to greet us.
On New Years Eve I snuck out and went to a party at a local's house, no uniform, no battle buddies, just me outside the wire with my civilian AMT .380 Backup pistol in my shorts pocket. It was a good party.
Here is an excellent, thorough review of the basics of Operation Just Cause.
http://www.history.army.mil/brochures/Just%20Cause/JustCause.pdf
And here is the recounting of the Battle of Coco Solo by Lt. Huelfer (2nd Platoon's leader).
The Battle for Coco Solo Panama, 1989
On Christmas Day (6 days after the stuff hit the fan) I was able to get on a telephone and tell my wife that I was alive. We were the first U.S. troops there (arriving in October) and the last to leave. I remember soldiers kissing the cold tarmac at the air force base in Texas when we returned in March or so of 1990. I was glad to be alive.
Three of my friends were shot, one killed.
We were each presented with the Combat Infantry Badge, some medals and a real AK-47 bayonet captured from the enemy. The folding stocked Remington 870s were quickly assigned one per squad for our urban patrols. I got two bayonets somehow, and a Panamanian Flag, and some patches from enemy uniforms and two ash trays from Noriega's Headquarters. I like to think he used them. I still use them on occasion on my boat when I smoke cigars while salmon fishing.
A fancy brass plaque I ended up with:
Our company commander: Captain Rizzo, a West Point Graduate:
Clean Break
1989 was a big year in my life. We went to Jungle Operations Training School at Ft. Sherman, Panama in January of 1989. I liked it. I liked the humidity, the birds and butterflies. The people were nice. I didn't like the monkeys. They pooped into their hands and threw it at us from the high limbs above. They must've known we didn't carry live ammo. I proposed to my girlfriend over the single outdoor telephone that all of the soldiers waited in line to use.
Once home, we got married on April 14, 1989.
Back in the states we went to Ft. Bragg for a huge field training exercise. That was when Hurricane Hugo hit. It was impressive. It was the most damaging storm in some time and I was in the teeth of it, outdoors when it hit. I remember swallowing a live toad whole, just to try and out-do some buddies while we waited things out. Infantry does that kind of thing.
Once we returned to Ft. Ord, it wasn't long until the big San Francisco earthquake hit (it's epicenter was actually in Watsonville, much closer to Ft. Ord than San Francisco). I remember the concrete walls bending like a sheet, thrown across the bed, rippling energy surging along the whole length of the barracks, bending it like butter.
Things heated up down south. Ft. Ord was known as the "Gateway to Central America". We were always on alert, ready to be anywhere in the world within 24 hrs. I had to miss both of my sisters' weddings because we were on alert status.
We were sent back down to Panama. We had to go through Jungle Operations School again, just 6 months or so after the first time. I saw the 350 lb. pet anaconda in the swimming pool at Ft. Sherman. I never saw it eat goats on Tuesdays though.
the Canal and some local Indian art I bought:
Me, getting ready for a training mission, waiting on a Blackhawk helicopter:
We lived in Christobal High School (an active high school, with part blocked off for us) in Coco Solo. We monitored Noriega's Navy that was located right near us. We watched them.
We landed in Chinook 47 helicopters at the Gamboa Golf course.... old dudes scattered, towing their clubs. We marched to a PDF (Panamanian Defense Force) road block, testing their resolve to not let us pass.... the half dozen of them locked and loaded their .50 and .30 cals and pointed them at us..... 120 of us trained our M-16s, M-60s, M-203 grenade launchers and M249 Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs), Dragons, AT4s & LAWs at them (anti-tank recoiless rockets). They blinked. We walked through.
Things heated up. We messed with their guys, they messed with ours; some died. Noriega declared war on the U.S. The next night, Captain Rizzo, commanding officer of Charlie Company had us assemble in the hallway. He said "Tonight men, you are going to make history". He laid out our plans to attack.
It was December 19, 1989.
We had three hours to kill. Back at our bunks, Sgt. Daniels turned on "Sympathy For the Devil" by the Rolling Stones as we daubed on the green and black war face paint and cleaned the weapons one more time. We hadn't got mail for a week but it came that night. Grodziak got a care package from his mom. It had a plug in Christmas tree about a foot high. We all liked that. I got a letter from my new wife of about six months. She said she felt our baby move for the first time. That is heady news for a first time father and a soldier about to go in to battle. Some guys wrote their will. I got ready. Beretta 92, LAW (light anti-tank weapon) M16 A-2, hand-grenades, kevlar helment and flack jacket were standard equipment for me on patrols. I weighed my gear once. I never carried less than 72 pounds. This is the photo I thought might be my last, a strong soldier named Fred Butler took it. Grenade and Law in plain view.
I took one of Fred too. We wrestled once. It didn't work out for me very well. He was a great guy.
We lined up across the soccer field from the PDF barracks. We saw they had a beautiful Christmas tree all lit up by their Command Post entrance. The 2 vulcan guns were ready as well as all of our armament. 1st Platoon was in position out by the docks to ambush them if they tried to mobilize to their boats. We attacked for two minutes. The guys by the tree were the first to go. Sgt. Ortiz got on the bullhorn and told them to surrender.... they returned fire. We hit them again and again offered a chance to surrender.... they did not. We swept through the building. Fighting got intense on the docks.
Grodziak, my mortar buddy. The girls would say "oooh, azul oho!!!" (oooh, blue eyes).
Glad to be alive with my best friend Robert Coulter, a Ranger:
I could hear Sgt. Daniels screaming he'd been hit in the leg. Later I saw him while the medics readied him for evacuation. He was doped up and laughing on morphine, showing me the ammo pouch that was shattered from the AK-47 rounds, only one of which hit him in the hip.
The following days we slept on concrete and patrolled Coco Solo and then Colon, the largest city of Panama on the Atlantic side. I shot the tires out of a bus to keep the loot it was loaded with from leaving the store where it had been loaded. At one point I was put in charge of the prisoners. We locked them in the high school tennis courts. Our "torture" was to give them the MREs (meals, ready to eat) that we didn't like - generally it was the dreaded pork patty or barbecue beef conglomerate.
In all of the patrols we made I only heard one negative comment "Yankee go home". Most of the Panamanians were glad we were there and glad to be rid of Noriega. I was at a guard post when a neighborhood official arrived and presented a Christmas Card to the U.S. Army. It was signed by over 300 people. I sent it up the chain of command. I was interviewed by some reporter and a relative heard it on the radio back home in the South. It was weird to watch Tom Brockaw of NBC news tell us how it was in Panama at night on the television. He was generally wrong.
The locals of Coco Solo liked us so much the school threw us a pep rally.
The inveterate Rolling Stones fan, I had to take a pic of this bus:
After the initial conflict, there was a lot of looting by the people there. I remember seeing refrigerators going by the street on skateboards.... kids with 50 Addidas around their necks. Everywhere we stopped families would send their young daughters to greet us.
On New Years Eve I snuck out and went to a party at a local's house, no uniform, no battle buddies, just me outside the wire with my civilian AMT .380 Backup pistol in my shorts pocket. It was a good party.
Here is an excellent, thorough review of the basics of Operation Just Cause.
http://www.history.army.mil/brochures/Just%20Cause/JustCause.pdf
And here is the recounting of the Battle of Coco Solo by Lt. Huelfer (2nd Platoon's leader).
The Battle for Coco Solo Panama, 1989
On Christmas Day (6 days after the stuff hit the fan) I was able to get on a telephone and tell my wife that I was alive. We were the first U.S. troops there (arriving in October) and the last to leave. I remember soldiers kissing the cold tarmac at the air force base in Texas when we returned in March or so of 1990. I was glad to be alive.
Three of my friends were shot, one killed.
We were each presented with the Combat Infantry Badge, some medals and a real AK-47 bayonet captured from the enemy. The folding stocked Remington 870s were quickly assigned one per squad for our urban patrols. I got two bayonets somehow, and a Panamanian Flag, and some patches from enemy uniforms and two ash trays from Noriega's Headquarters. I like to think he used them. I still use them on occasion on my boat when I smoke cigars while salmon fishing.
A fancy brass plaque I ended up with:
Our company commander: Captain Rizzo, a West Point Graduate:
Clean Break
