"I went to Gen. Stiner and I told him, "We are going to live with disgrace because of this.' Reinforcements were sent into the city. But it was too late, the looting had occurred," Cisneros said.

By then Cisneros had already taken matters into his own hands on the battlefront.

Right before the invasion, Cisneros met with his senior commanders. "I told them: "Listen, most of these people are not going to fight. Give them a chance to surrender and they will. You don't have to blow everything to kingdom come."'

Also crucial to Cisneros' efforts was the telephone.

The day after the invasion started, Cisneros learned of the capture of a Panamanian officer, Capt. Amadis Jimenez, who was believed to have good relations with the Noriega opposition. Cisneros went to visit Jimenez in a makeshift prison camp and persuaded him to help bring a swift and bloodless end to the fighting.

Using Jimenez's phone contacts, the pair began calling Panamanian military commanders.

"I told them we all wanted to avoid a bloodbath," Cisneros said. "I told them if they maintained law and order, collected all their weapons and didn't do any atrocities, we wouldn't attack them."

It worked. One by one, Noriega's army garrisons began to surrender. Cisneros and Jimenez, who remain friends, estimate their phone calls led to the surrender of 75 percent of the Panamanian forces.

"People describe Marc as having won the war with a telephone," Woerner said. "He saw a way to accomplish the mission, and at the same time minimize the loss of life and destruction. He was the glue in Just Cause."

But Cisneros' superiors remained skeptical. "They couldn't believe it. They felt it was some diabolical trick," Cisneros said.

Hardest to convince was Noriega's right-hand man, Col. Luis del Cid, who commanded defense forces in Chiriqui province, a mountainous region near Costa Rica. Indicted with Noriega in Miami on drug charges, del Cid had more to lose than most if he was captured.

Cisneros figured if del Cid surrendered it would send a strong message to the still-fugitive Noriega that the gig was up. "I told him that if he did not comply there was no escape. I think that's when he decided to surrender."

But Thurman didn't trust del Cid. When Cisneros learned Thurman was planning to bomb him into submission, he feared lives would be needlessly lost.

So he despatched Jimenez in a helicopter to talk directly with del Cid.

Once again, Cisneros read the situation right. Del Cid caved in. Noriega fled into the Vatican embassy the next day.

Cisneros also played a vital role in negotiating Noriega's surrender from his sanctuary. When Thurman ordered U.S. troops to surround the embassy and blast it with abrasive rock music, the Vatican was furious.

Angry words were exchanged between Thurman and Vatican representatives at the embassy gates. LaBoa even threatened diplomatic relations between the United States and the Vatican might be broken off. But tempers eased when Cisneros was appointed to head the American negotiating team. LaBoa had great confidence in Cisneros. He asked for time to work on Noriega.

From his contacts, Cisneros knew LaBoa was a wily ally with the psychological skills to break Noriega down. His previous job at the Vatican was as devil's advocate, critically examining candidates for sainthood.

Several days later, Noriega walked meekly out of the embassy and was whisked to jail in Miami.

But Cisneros' moments in the spotlight did little to enhance his career. He would later be passed over for commander-in-chief of the U.S. Southern Command. His career had to be rescued by allies like Woerner who advocated his promotion. After his retirement he returned to Texas, where he is currently president at Texas A&M University at Kingsville.

Influential figures at the Pentagon, Thurman in particular, never came to trust Cisneros' judgment. "I honestly felt my assessments were taken by Thurman as too biased," Cisneros said. "He thought I cared much more about the Panamanians than anything else."

Thurman died in 1995. And while Cisneros says he does not like to speak ill of the dead, he feels compelled to set the historical record straight.

"I hate to say this about him now because he's dead, but I feel that Just Cause was successful in spite of Thurman," he said. "But history will never capture it that way. History will show that Thurman went over there and Thurman made it happen. It may sound like sour grapes, but I know in my heart I was right and he was wrong."