Title: Jungle Psyops: The Ned Jukic Mission
FADE IN:
EXT. PANAMA JUNGLE – NIGHT – 1989
A BLACK HAWK HELICOPTER hovers over the dense jungle, floodlights illuminating the swaying treetops. The roar of the rotors competes with Van Halen’s “Panama” BLASTING through the onboard speakers.
CUT TO:
INT. BLACK HAWK – SAME TIME
A SQUAD OF CIA-TRAINED OPERATIVES sit strapped in, faces painted in camouflage. Among them is NED JUKIC (40s, Croatian lumberjack, hard as nails, chain-smoking a cigarette even in a no-smoking zone).
The OPERATIONS OFFICER hands Ned a dossier with a picture of MANUEL NORIEGA paperclipped to the top.
OPERATIONS OFFICER
(shouting over the noise)
You understand your orders, Jukic? You’re not just here to fall trees. You’re part of the show. Psychological warfare. CIA wants Noriega spooked.
NED JUKIC
(gruff, lighting another cigarette from the first one)
I drop trees, you drop bombs. I don’t need to know the rest.
The officer grins and leans closer.
OPERATIONS OFFICER
That’s the spirit. Just know, when the choppers start blasting Van Halen, that’s your cue. We’re making Noriega think the Devil himself is coming for him.
Ned takes a deep drag and exhales smoke through his nostrils, unimpressed.
NED JUKIC
The Devil doesn’t need a soundtrack.
CUT TO:
EXT. PANAMA JUNGLE – DAWN
Chainsaws ROAR as Ned and a team of jungle-clearers hack through thick foliage. Helicopters circle overhead, lowering supplies for an incoming landing zone for Apache gunships.
Ned signals his men to take down a massive ceiba tree blocking the clearing. He revs his Stihl chainsaw and drives it into the bark—
WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP!
SUDDENLY—multiple Cobra Gunships sweep in LOW over the trees, LOUDSPEAKERS BLARING “Panama! PANAMAAAAA!”
CUT TO:
INT. NORIEGA’S COMPOUND – SAME TIME
Inside a heavily guarded bunker, NORIEGA (50s, paranoid, sweat-drenched) sits with his GENERAL STAFF. The walls SHAKE as the helicopters pass over. The psyops broadcast begins: a mix of Van Halen, demonic whispers, and fake distress calls from his own men.
NORIEGA
(panicked, to his officers)
They’ve brought the gringos’ war music! The Devil comes with electric guitars!
His officers exchange nervous glances. The CIA’s PsyOps are working.
CUT TO:
EXT. JUNGLE CLEARING – DAY
Ned watches the helicopters unleash their psychological assault. He wipes sweat from his forehead and mutters—
NED JUKIC
What a waste of good music.
He gestures to his men—keep cutting. The mission isn’t over.
FADE TO BLACK.