The strategy was controversial. Critics said he was not being tough enough. In the end, however, his approach proved to be a historic success. Unlike his predecessors in the Kremlin a generation earlier, Mikhail Gorbachev allowed the reform movements in Central and Eastern Europe to proceed peacefully. For the first time in decades, the Berlin Wall no longer divided the East and the West. And for the first time in history, the continent came close to the vision that George Bush had defined and that would guide American policy for years to come: a Europe whole, free, and at peace.

—

SHORTLY AFTER THE fall of the Berlin Wall, another crisis erupted. This one happened closer to home. The nation of Panama was an American ally and a country of strategic importance because of the Panama Canal. Panama’s dictator, Manuel Noriega, had once cooperated with the United States to fight the spread of communism. Over time, as Noriega grew increasingly involved in the drug trade, his newfound power and wealth turned him against the United States. The Reagan administration obtained an indictment against him for drug trafficking.

Noriega’s belligerence grew after Dad took office. In May 1989, he nullified the results of a democratic election. When a subsequent coup attempt failed, he executed the leaders of the uprising. A few months later, Noriega declared “a state of war” with the United States. Panamanian military forces harassed American troops stationed in the country. One Marine was shot and killed at a roadblock. Panamanian forces then assaulted another Marine and humiliated his wife.

That was the last straw. Diplomatic efforts to change Noriega’s behavior were not working. Dad approved a highly classified invasion plan designed to overthrow Noriega. Operation Just Cause was set to launch early in the morning on December 20, 1989. Some twenty thousand American troops—the largest deployment since the Vietnam War—would storm the island, remove Noriega, and clear the way for the elected government to take power.

Dad slept fitfully the night before the secret mission was scheduled to launch. “I’m thinking about the kids,” he wrote, “those young 19 year olds who will be dropped in tonight.” He knew that some of them would not come home alive. Giving that order was the toughest decision of his young presidency.

Our family was at Camp David a few days later to celebrate Christmas. Dad was unusually reserved and somewhat grim. The pressure of his decision was weighing on him. He spent a lot of time in his small, wood-paneled office monitoring the progress of the operation. The initial reports were positive. The strike had removed the regime, and the new government had been sworn in. Yet Noriega was still at large.

On Christmas Eve, my brothers and I were playing wallyball (volleyball on a racquetball court) against several Marines stationed at Camp David. Suddenly Dad appeared on the balcony of the court with Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Colin Powell.

“We got him!” Dad exclaimed.

We knew exactly who he meant. The room broke out into cheers. A sweaty sergeant hugged me. Dad reported that Noriega was seeking asylum from the papal nuncio in Panama City. A few days later, he was turned over to the United States and flown to Miami, where he was eventually tried, convicted, and sent to prison.

The mission was a resounding success. Noriega was gone, and Panamanian democracy had been restored. Yet the victory came at a cost. Twenty-three Americans gave their lives, and more than three hundred were wounded. As a combat veteran, Dad felt a special connection to the troops. He understood the agony of war firsthand. And he believed that his job as Commander-in-Chief was to show his personal commitment to those who carried out his orders. On New Year’s Eve, Mother and Dad visited a military hospital in San Antonio, where some of the wounded from Panama had been sent for treatment. One Marine gave Dad a small American flag, which he kept on his desk in the Oval Office for the rest of his presidency.

Shortly after his visit, Dad told me about a Navy SEAL he had visited in the hospital. It turned out that he was a Texas Rangers fan. I had just bought a minority stake in the Rangers and was serving as comanaging general partner. We contacted the wounded SEAL and told him that the Rangers would be proud to have him throw out the first pitch on Opening Day of the 1990 season. He agreed, and the crowd gave him a huge ovation. It was a small gesture, but I was glad to play a part in honoring our military. One of the lessons that I learned was that the military must know that their President supports them. I would not fully understand the special relationship that a Commander-in-Chief has with his troops for another dozen years, when I was the one who had to give the order to send our military into harm’s way.

—

NOTHING PUT George Bush in a better mood than visiting Walker’s Point. And in the summer of 1990, his spirits needed a lift. After the triumph in Panama, he had endured six months of bad news. The economy was slowing down. He was locked in a budget battle with the Democratic Congress. And my brother Neil was under investigation for his role in a failed savings and loan. In late July, Laura, Barbara, Jenna, and I visited Maine—a welcome break from the Texas heat. As usual, George Bush was nonstop activity. His idea of relaxation was playing golf or tennis in the morning, then fishing in the afternoon. A few days into our trip, Dad announced that he had to get back to Washington. On August 2, 1990, the news broke that Iraq had invaded Kuwait.

The man behind the invasion was Saddam Hussein, an oppressive and ruthless dictator who had devastated Iraq since 1979. In addition to repressing all dissent, Saddam had used chemical weapons against his own people and started a senseless war with Iran that killed hundreds of thousands of people on both sides. Then, without provocation, he had invaded the small, oil-rich nation of Kuwait—a key American ally with valuable ports on the Persian Gulf. As the Kuwaiti royal family fled, invading Iraqi troops brutalized Kuwaiti citizens and looted the country. There was talk that Saudi Arabia, another close ally of the United States, could be Saddam’s next target. That would put Saddam in charge of a major share of the world’s oil supply. America’s vital diplomatic and economic interests in the Middle East were at stake.

Dad convened his National Security Advisers at Camp David. The usual team was joined by a new member, General Norman Schwarzkop

f—the gruff, confident commander of U.S. Central Command. Dad asked for options. Some members of the team believed that tough economic sanctions could persuade Saddam to withdraw from Kuwait. Others thought an aerial bombardment would work. All agreed that a ground invasion could eventually be required. The National Security Council also discussed how to protect Saudi Arabia. Dad had spoken to King Fahd about the possibility of deploying U.S. troops to his kingdom to deter an Iraqi invasion and provide a base for the liberation of Kuwait. As the keeper of the two holiest Islamic sites, Mecca and Medina, Saudi Arabia had a zealous aversion to allowing foreign troops on its soil. The King agreed to consider the matter, and Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney was dispatched to make the case.

As Dad returned to the White House from Camp David, a huge gathering of reporters had assembled on the South Lawn. Dad told them that he was keeping his options open. Then he added, “This will not stand, this aggression against Kuwait.” Those were not hollow words. George Bush understood that the President must mean what he says. Colin Powell later said that Dad’s statement marked the moment when he knew that the military would have to prepare for war. The line stuck with me, at least subconscio

usly. A decade later, after the al Qaeda attacks on September 11, 2001, I told the country in my first public statement, “Terrorism against our nation will not stand.”