The stench of burnt flesh and bones was nauseating even from a distance. Mutilated and burnt body parts lay strewn amid the ruins of bombed houses. Smoke billowed from what was once a thriving market selling a wide range of commodities and catering to the needs of three villages in the area.

When I arrived at the bombed site at Yoe Ngu village in Ponnagyun township of Myanmar’s Rakhine State at 7.30 p.m. on February 24, the atmosphere was unnerving. Aside from a small group of six men holding blazing torches and using sticks and shovels to rummage through the ash and charred heaps, the village was deserted.

The men were assembling the corpses and severed limbs at a spot on a road adjacent to the market. A man sprinkled water from a bucket where the fire was yet to be extinguished. Two women who had lost their relatives sat at a far corner of the market and wept uncontrollably.

“Let’s resume our work in the morning,” an elderly man shouted. “We will not be able to extricate anything more in the dark.” Bodies and body parts were loaded onto a handcart to be taken to the cemetery for burial.

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Between 2 and 2:15 p.m. that day, the Myanmar military dropped two 500-pound bombs on a market in Yoe Ngu village. Some 17 people were killed on the spot and another 15 were injured. Among the dead were a 6-year-old girl, two teenagers, four women, and an unidentified charred body.

The injured were taken to the hospital in Mrauk U, located about 80 kilometers north of the village.  Among them were eight critical cases, including a 5-year-old girl, who survived but had her right leg amputated.  A middle-aged poultry farmer succumbed to injuries two days later.

There were only about a dozen people gathering the dead bodies or searching for their missing relatives at the bombed site. All the residents had relocated to different places within a radius of 1-2 km from the village, while many of them pitched tents in the open fields. They were terrified that more airstrikes would happen that night.

Nineteen families had erected makeshift thatches of bamboo and tarpaulin in the paddy fields about a hundred meters from the highway on the northern flank of the village. Among them were 32 internally displaced persons (IDPs) from Sittwe, who were compelled to leave their villages early last year after continuous shelling by the military. They assumed they were safe in Yoe Ngu but were mistaken.

A family from Yoe Ngu that relocated to a place outside the village after the airstrike on February 24, 2026. Photo by Rajeev Bhattacharyya

“We are back to the situation when we had to flee for our lives from Sittwe last year,” said Hla Thein Tun, whose sister died instantly after multiple splinters hit her head. “We don’t know for how long we can stay here.”

Another male IDP from Kyaukphyu was killed in the market and two sustained minor injuries.  They were among the 850-odd IDPs residing in the village with a population of about 2,500.

Until they can return to the village, the people must survive in the fields. They have to fetch food, water, and other essentials from the village. The misery is more for the elderly, children, and especially the sick people requiring greater attention and care.

“The saving grace is the ongoing winter season. The fields are dry and so there is less chance of us contracting diseases,” Than Tun, who was sitting outside the thatch in the fields with his seven family members, told me. “But then there might be airstrikes here as well.”

His fears were not misplaced. There was an aerial attack again about a mile from Yoe Ngu village on July 27, near an IDP camp, where a teenage girl sustained minor injuries.

Residents of Ye Yeo Pyin village in Ponnagyun township display shrapnel from air strikes. Photo by Rajeev Bhattacharyya.

Military’s Rationale For Increased Airstrikes

Major Myint Zaw Than, who defected from the military last year, told The Diplomat on February 25 in Rakhine State that airstrikes on the civilian population would increase in Rakhine’s liberated region in the coming months. The rationale for the escalation was the military’s need to defend the three townships of Sittwe, Kyaukphyu, and Manaung that are still under its control, he explained. The rest of the 14 townships have been overtaken by the Arakan Army (AA).

Myint Zaw Than said that after the coup in 2021, when the resistance to the junta grew, the military upgraded its capabilities. “It uses suicide drones extensively now, which was absent five years ago. Surveillance has also improved,” he said.

Winning territory lost to the AA  has been among the top priorities of the military over the past year.

Earlier, while combating the ethnic armed organizations (EAOs) in other regions, the military had resorted to airstrikes to support ground offensives. Currently, in Rakhine and other regions that are largely under the control of the EAOs, aerial attacks are being used as a separate strategy.

Some academics and journalists in Rakhine State opine that airpower is being used to weaken the armed resistance, to impose sustained pressure on the civilian populace and to wrest political concessions. They fear that after the military launched its major multi-front counteroffensive codenamed Operation 4926 on September 4, spanning several townships in Rakhine and the contiguous regions of Magway and Ayeyarwady, more airstrikes could be expected.

According to a United Nations report, airstrikes were the leading cause of civilian casualties in Myanmar in 2025, with at least 982 deaths, including 232 children.  This was a 52 percent increase compared with casualties in 2024.

Figures from ISP-Myanmar’s Conflict & Security Tracker 2026 indicate that there were at least 222 aerial attacks in Rakhine between March 31 and August 31 this year, out of a total of 1,583 air strikes across the country. Magway was the worst hit with 322 strikes.

That airstrikes against civilians are escalating have also been noted by the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED), which says that the increase is the result of the “tactics” employed by new military chief Ye Win Oo, who assumed charge in March, after which the military command was reconfigured.

A renewed offensive has begun in several border regions, including a frontier zone with rare earth deposits and vital trade arteries.  ACLED also said that as part of the new strategy, the military was regularly deploying “specialized groups of two to five jet fighters” hitting the same target repeatedly,

ACLED’s findings have been echoed in a report by the U.N.-established Independent Investigative Mechanism for Myanmar (IIMM), which mentions the increasing use of low-cost aircraft such as motorized paragliders and gyrocopters in the attacks. The U.N. agency pointed out that civilian casualties are aggravated by the military’s growing use of “double-tap” aerial attacks in which a second strike follows the first, apparently “targeting first responders, people helping the wounded, and those trying to flee.”

Commenting on the increasing airstrikes, AA chief Twan Mrat Naing observed in an interview to The Diplomat on March 2 that “The military government wants to talk from a position of strength. But we will not succumb to such pressure.”

Airstrike on Mrauk U Hospital

Among the worst airstrikes on civilians in Rakhine State was the attack on Mrauk U Division Hospital on December 10, 2025, which killed 33 people and left 80 injured, including seven staff members. It was a 250-bed hospital, but only 140 patients were in the hospital at the time of the attack.

Among the injured staff members was Soe Naing Tun, who was at the entrance of an adjacent building and preparing to leave for home after completing his duties at the hospital. He witnessed the shells exploding and the ensuing sequence of events in the hospital.

“Both the strikes happened at 9:15 p.m. within seconds of each other. The first strike fell on the room adjacent to the verandah where all the patients were killed. Fortunately, the second hit the field in front.  For a few seconds, it seemed as if a volcano had erupted in the main building with a deafening roar,” Soe Naing Tun recalled. He added that most of the patients who either died or were injured hailed from the townships of Ponnagyun, Kyauktaw, and Mrauk U.

Soe Naing explained that the entire complex was dark and partially burning after the strikes. Then, “those who suffered minor or no injuries hobbled out of the hospital and some were carrying those who were either dead or critically injured. After about an hour, two dozen functionaries of AA’s political wing, United League of Arakan (ULA), and an NGO arrived with two vehicles and shifted the injured to another health center,” he recalled.

The operation to douse the flames, extract dead bodies, and check if any injured persons were lying in the debris continued till early morning. All the dead bodies, many of which were completely charred and unidentifiable, were lined up outside the building for relatives to identify. Two doctors checked the bodies to confirm that they were actually dead.

A doctor employed at the hospital, who was on leave on the day of the strike, was in no doubt about the reason for the attack. “This hospital is the biggest in the liberated zone of Arakan. Patients from far-off areas come here for treatment. The military assumed that many AA functionaries were admitted in the hospital,” he said,

The hospital also dispatches mobile health squads to remote areas that have neither roads nor transport facilities. Sick patients are diagnosed and given medicines. An air strike on the hospital would put an end to these services.

The tactic of striking on health facilities has been applied extensively by the military across all rebel strongholds.  According to an estimate, the military attacked health care facilities at least 110 times last year across Myanmar, in which 34 health workers were killed and 33 arrested.

While no doctor or nurse died or sustained any injuries in the bombing of Mrauk U Division Hospital, almost the entire stock of medicines went up in flames and most of the equipment was destroyed.  The hospital limped back into action, albeit at a different place three weeks later, with limited infrastructure and a shortage of medicines and staff. And there was a drastic reduction in patients visiting the hospital over the next three months as people feared the military would strike again.

Residents digging a trench on the outskirts of Mombra township in Myanmar’s Rakhine State. Photo by Rajeev Bhattacharyya

“Fear Is Constant But There Is No Option”

During my travel in Rakhine between January 29 and March 4 this year, I saw many deserted and partially burned villages and bombed structures, as well as trenches in houses and people digging them. Unlike my previous visit to the region in 2024, this time around I noticed that a profound fear of aerial attacks has gripped the people.

A deep sense of unease was palpable in the evening. “The general perception is that more bombings have happened in the dark than during the daytime. So, people want to be in their homes and near trenches after dark,” said Shan Shwe Aung, the owner of a tea stall abutting a former guest house of the military in Kyauktaw, which was bombed on April 4, 2024.

By late afternoon, shopkeepers can be seen preparing to end their business for the day and readying to draw down the shutters. Street vendors can be seen packing up, as the roads begin to quickly empty. Some restaurants were open till late at night, but they were the exception to the rule.  In every home, dinner is served early so that the lights can be turned off at the earliest.

The fear was more intense in the townships of Ponnagyun, Rathedaung, Kyauktaw, and Pauktaw, which suffered more from aerial attacks, shelling, and displacement than in Maungdaw and Paletwa.

Communities are coming to terms with a new reality in which airstrikes are no longer intermittent dangers as they used to be two years ago but a constant hazard. People have acclimatized to the danger that has now become a part of their daily life and woven into the collective consciousness.

“Every day, before I send my son to school, I look up at the sky and ask myself, ‘Will the sky be safe today?’ I can breathe easy only after he returns home in the afternoon,” said Thazin Khaing, a resident of Buthidaung town. She pointed to a trench that she has dug in the courtyard of her double-storied house. “Airstrikes have been relatively few in this place, but we dive into the trench whenever the sound of jet fighters is heard.”

Thuzar Myint, who had a narrow escape from an airstrike in Ponnagyun township, is struggling with injuries to her right ear and consequent hearing impairment. Photo by Rajeev Bhattacharyya

Most of the houses have trenches; some do not. A lack of space and resources prevents families from protecting themselves with trenches. Most of these are families from lower-income groups, those earning a living as daily wagers and in some of the bigger IDP camps such as the Old Kran Khun Camp in Ponnagyun township.

On the outskirts of Mrauk U, I found a locality where residents were forced to take cover in trenches filled with water as the groundwater level there is high. An identical situation was experienced in other townships during the monsoon season.

Still, trenches cannot be a foolproof shield against airstrikes, as a resident in Paletwa, who had adopted this safeguard, observed. There is no early warning system, and it is only after the first strike that people start rushing out of their houses to shelter in the trenches. But enough damage is often wrought by the first strike itself.

On September 12, 2025, two airstrikes hit the village of Thayet Ta Pin in Kyauktaw township. The first, at 1:15 a.m., was on a hostel where outstation students lived. It killed 20 on the spot, with two more succumbing to their injuries on the way to the hospital in the town. At least 26 others were injured. The second strike was on a patch of open ground. It caused a crater and extensive damage to two houses nearby.

Among the victims was 15-year-old Tun Murn Thant, who lived with his grandparents, his sister, and mother in the village, after relocating from Sittwe two years ago.  Recalling the incident, his grandmother, Khin Mar Yi, said, “We heard the sound of aircraft and the strike happened after about 10 seconds.  There was no time to take cover in the trench.”

She added that most residents of the village took cover in the trenches or scurried to move out of the village only after the second strike, about a minute after the first. And similar to the reaction in places hit by air raids, most of the residents relocated for some days to sites outside the village, fearing more attacks.

“Fear is constant, but there is no option. The threat of bombings has become a part of daily life for us,” said Oo Tin Nyunt, a resident of the village who had pitched a tent outside the village for a week after the airstrike.

Displacement, Disruption, and Despair

Towns and villages situated along the sea and rivers or within the artillery strike range of the military establishment in Sittwe have suffered the double whammy of airstrikes and shelling. The result has been intense and widespread devastation, compelling entire villages to relocate elsewhere.

Rathedaung town in Sittwe district of Rakhine State exemplifies the devastation wrought by airstrikes and shelling. Situated along the Kaladan river, the town and its neighboring villages began experiencing horrific destruction three months before the town was captured on March 17, 2024, by the AA. From 1,018 people before the AA wrested control of this town from the military, its population has shrunk to only about 30 people from six households.  The rest have dispersed to other townships, villages, and IDP camps.

When I visited the town on February 16, I saw uprooted and broken lamp posts, cratered roads, smashed houses and monasteries. The eastern flank of the settlement was barricaded with bamboo to prevent residents from stepping on land mines.

According to U Thar Zan, a former lawyer in Rathedaung, who decided not to relocate despite the dangers, “The town and its neighboring areas have been hit by airstrikes not less than 30 times and by shelling many times more from military vessels stationed on the Kaladan river. So far, 12 persons have died, including six women and two children, and 28 were injured.”

Worse than the situation in Rathedaung town were the conditions in Pauktaw and Ponnagyun. Both towns were within the firing range of the military center and were almost totally evacuated by the residents.

I spotted only five residents in Ponnagyun town and none in Pauktaw, where only a few AA soldiers stood behind heavily fortified structures and in trenches. Most residents have relocated to IDP camps in Ponnagyun township, or have moved into the homes of relatives. Others have travelled as far as Mandalay and Yangon in search of safety and livelihood.

The ULA claims that as many as 565 people were killed across Rakhine and 1,261 injured by airstrikes between November 13, 2021, and February 28, 2026, and 268 were killed and 729 injured by shelling during the same period. Approximately 600,000 people were displaced by shelling and airstrikes, with the maximum from the twin districts of Sittwe and Kyaukphyu. The data could not be independently verified.

Relocation to new places means a total disconnect for the IDPs from their livelihoods. Farmers are barred from tilling their lands. Traders, shopkeepers, fishermen, and entrepreneurs have abandoned their occupations and accepted whatever means of livelihood are available at the places where they have relocated.

Nyin Nyin Tun, a farmer with 5 acres of land, was displaced last year from Kyay Thoe village in Ponnagyun township. He pointed out that an overwhelming majority of the displaced households were dependent on farming. “Agricultural production has plummeted sharply, especially in Sittwe and Kyaukphyu. But it seems to have remained stable in the middle zone of Arakan,” he said.

Apart from declining agricultural production, the humanitarian consequences of airstrikes have been calamitous. All big schools in the liberated zone have been abandoned, and students are taught in small houses with trenches.

When there are air raids in the vicinity of schools, attendance drops for many weeks. On some occasions, as it happened with the airstrike in Kyauktaw’s Thayet Ta Pin village, teachers had to make extra efforts to convince parents to resume sending their children to school. Almost one-third of the students still refused to return six months after the incident.

The deserted town of Pauktaw in Sittwe district of Myanmar’s Rakhine State. Photo by Rajeev Bhattacharyya.

Akin to the situation faced by schools are mobile health squads offering services to remote areas and NGOs engaged in aid delivery to IDP camps. Dr. Than Tun, a district medical officer of Mrebon township under the ULA, said that about 25 percent of health workers, including doctors and nurses, have dissociated themselves from health centers. Doctors reported facing the same dilemma in other townships that were hit by multiple airstrikes and shelling.

People of all age groups are reported to be struggling with varying degrees of psychological trauma. There were reports of some women and children suffering from anxiety, sleep, and dissociative disorders across all the townships, with the most severe cases emerging from those who had either narrowly escaped death in the airstrikes, were left severely injured, or had lost several relatives.

Treatment for psychological disorders is meager or non-existent in the existing health centers.  As a doctor pointed out, “During a war, the greatest challenge is to survive and continue providing the health care services to the extent possible.”