The Secret War in South Florida: Inside JM Wave, the CIA’s Covert Base in Magic City

By Joe Marzo

In the heat of the Cold War, as tensions between the United States and Cuba reached a boiling point, a sprawling covert operation took root in one of the least expected places: the sunny campus of the University of Miami.

Behind the cover of a "naval research facility," the CIA built and operated its largest-ever domestic base of operations. Known only by its codename—JM Wave—this secret city of espionage became the heart of America’s shadow war against Fidel Castro. For nearly a decade, South Florida was more than a tropical playground. It was the epicenter of sabotage plots, guerrilla warfare training, political propaganda, and sometimes, outright illegality—all hidden in plain sight.

JM Wave was born out of panic. When Fidel Castro rose to power in 1959 and began nationalizing U.S. businesses and aligning with the Soviet Union, Washington viewed the revolution not as a regional rebellion, but as a direct threat to American dominance in the Western Hemisphere. The failed Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961 only intensified this fear. From that moment forward, the CIA was given unprecedented latitude to destroy Castro's regime—and South Florida became the staging ground for the mission.

Operating from the University of Miami’s South Campus in Coral Gables, JM Wave was far more than a temporary outpost. It evolved into a full-scale command center, overseeing covert operations across the Caribbean and Latin America. It had its own warehouses, bunkers, airstrips, safehouses, and fleet of vehicles. Dozens of front companies were created to funnel money, move equipment, and employ operatives under false identities. Many of these businesses were registered in Florida’s public records and operated in broad daylight. Some were even listed in the phone book.

The size of JM Wave was staggering. At its peak, the station employed over 400 full-time CIA officers and managed a network of thousands of Cuban exiles—many of whom were trained in sabotage, espionage, and guerrilla warfare. These exiles were often funneled into exile groups like Brigade 2506 and Alpha 66, and were trained in Florida swamps, abandoned airfields, or remote sites in the Keys. From these locations, they launched raids against Cuba’s coastline, planted bombs in refineries, sunk ships, and engaged in a range of black operations—all with support, or at least encouragement, from the U.S. government.

But JM Wave’s activities weren’t confined to Cuba. Over time, the operation expanded its influence into Central and South America. The same playbook tested in Havana—disinformation, destabilization, deniable violence—was later used in countries like Guatemala, the Dominican Republic, and Bolivia. Miami, it turned out, was not just a front in the Cold War—it was the control room for much of America’s covert empire-building in the region.

This expansion was matched by an erosion of oversight. The CIA is legally prohibited from conducting domestic operations, yet JM Wave operated inside the U.S. without meaningful scrutiny. Reports later suggested that surveillance extended to American citizens, and that some exile groups trained by the CIA engaged in terrorist attacks, including bombings in both Havana and Miami. There were whispers of drug running, gun smuggling, and rogue operatives who blurred the line between patriot and mercenary.

Throughout the 1960s, the operation continued under a cloud of plausible deniability. The press remained largely unaware. Local officials either didn’t know or didn’t ask questions. Those who did found themselves stonewalled by national security concerns. JM Wave became a state within a state—powerful, well-funded, and almost entirely invisible.

That invisibility wouldn’t last.

In the wake of the Vietnam War and the Watergate scandal, a national reckoning began. In 1975, the U.S. Senate’s Church Committee held hearings into abuses by intelligence agencies. What they uncovered stunned the public. Among the most explosive findings was the existence and scope of JM Wave. Lawmakers and the American people learned for the first time that the CIA had effectively operated an undeclared war from American soil. It had conducted raids on foreign nations, funded exile armies, plotted assassinations, and violated its own charter—all from the campus of a Florida university.

By that time, JM Wave had already been shut down. Officially, the station closed its doors in 1968, just as questions about its legality were beginning to surface. But many of its operatives didn’t fade away. Instead, they moved into other corners of the intelligence world, some appearing later in Watergate, others surfacing during the Iran-Contra affair. A few transitioned into the private sector, offering their skills to foreign governments or defense contractors.

The impact of JM Wave lingered long after the buildings were emptied. It left behind a legacy of secrecy, blurred ethics, and unchecked power. Miami’s political structure was permanently altered. Cuban exile groups gained immense clout, their rise intertwined with the CIA’s own ambitions. The city’s transformation into a Cold War battleground helped shape its identity as a center of international intrigue—a place where spies, smugglers, and revolutionaries crossed paths.

Today, most Floridians have never heard of JM Wave. There is no plaque marking its location. No museum exhibit commemorates the role South Florida played in America’s covert war machine. But the files remain—many still classified—and the questions still linger. How many laws were broken in pursuit of foreign policy? How many lives were lost? And what else happened in the shadows, shielded by a tropical breeze and the illusion of peacetime?

JM Wave is a story of Florida few have told. It’s not the story of sunshine and beaches—it’s the story of secrets, sabotage, and how a state built on tourism and retirement once hosted the largest covert intelligence operation in American history.

Sources

• Church Committee Hearings, U.S. Senate (1975)

• National Security Archive, “Operation Mongoose Files”

• Safe for Democracy by John Prados

• “CIA in Miami” – Miami Herald investigative series

• Interviews with former agents published by The Intercept & Rolling Stone