“A bucket full of water rose by itself from the well at the house to our east. Then, it suddenly plummeted back down with great force. Just south of that house was the police station—the same one where so many died when it was seized,” says Ma Mon (alias), a resident of Sagaing Region who witnessed the eerie event.
As the conflict between local revolutionary forces and the military junta’s troops approaches its fifth year, daily clashes have become a grim routine across Myanmar. While both sides suffer heavy casualties, a stark difference emerges in how the fallen are treated. When revolutionary fighters fall, they are honored with official tributes and merit-sharing ceremonies by their families, intended to guide their souls to a peaceful afterlife.
In contrast, those serving under the dictatorship often die in obscurity. Their families may remain unaware of their deaths for months or even years, sometimes only finding out when revolutionary groups post photos of the deceased online.
The Walls of Suspicion
The tension began in villages like Ma Mon’s following the February 2021 coup. While the majority joined mass protests, a small circle of military supporters stood in opposition. In the fervently revolutionary atmosphere of Sagaing, these supporters were given no quarter. Warning letters were delivered to their homes; some reacted with defiance, riding motorcycles through the village shouting insults.
Even before the armed revolution fully ignited, some vocal junta supporters were killed, while others fled to the cities. “When people protested, the supporters would film them. If they heard civilians were killed by bullets in the city, they would laugh about it,” recalls Ma Thway Thway, a friend of Ma Mon.
The Fall of the Station
By mid-2022, local resistance forces managed to seize the village police station after earlier attempts with traditional percussion lock firearms had failed due to a lack of firepower. Upon entering the base, they found five bodies of junta police personnel along with seized ammunition.
However, the retreating junta troops had left behind a gruesome scene. Witnesses and resistance fighters say the military placed approximately ten bodies of their own fallen comrades into a bunker and set them on fire before fleeing.
“We saw them setting the fires during the battle,” one revolutionary fighter notes. “When we finally cleared the station, we found human bones. There were about ten of them. We had to move with extreme caution because they had also planted landmines all around”.
Restless Shadows
Since that battle, residents living near the station report being haunted by the sounds of boots, whispered conversations, and footsteps. Even in 2025, the fear lingers. “In the beginning, no one dared to go out after dark. Even now, people are terrified to walk past the station during the day,” says Ma Khin Moe, who experienced the hauntings firsthand.
She describes doors opening on their own in houses formerly occupied by the military and the distinct sound of combat boots marching in front of her home. “The haunting only stops when we play Buddhist chants. Since this never happened before the station was seized, we are certain it’s the spirits of the dead police”.
This phenomenon isn’t isolated to Sagaing. In Rakhine, Kachin, and Chin States—where intense battles to capture towns and bases have occurred—revolutionary fighters and locals tell similar stories of “unrestful spirits”.
“Because they died violent deaths, we experience foul odors or the sound of things breaking,” says a fighter in Rakhine State. “In our hearts, we believe our own fallen comrades would never do this to us”. In the KNU’s Brigade 3 territory in Bago Region, fighters report hearing the crunch of combat boots while on guard duty at night or feeling eyes watching them from the shadows.
The Theology of the “Green Death”
A Buddhist monk from Sagaing, speaking on the condition of anonymity, explains these occurrences through the lens of Upacchedaka-kamma—a death that interrupts the natural lifespan.
“In common terms, these are ‘green deaths’ (a-sein-thay). These spirits are in need of merit-sharing (ah-hmyat),” the monk explains. “Because they died with hearts full of greed, anger, or delusion, they remain trapped. This is why we perform rituals like chanting Kammawa or Paritta to share merit and bring peace to the environment”.
Betrayed by the Command
While these soldiers gave their lives for the junta, their superiors appear to have abandoned them even in death. Despite having the service numbers of the fallen, military officials often neglect to inform families, reportedly continuing to draw the deceased’s salaries for their own benefit. Families of fallen officers and soldiers often face the additional hardship of being evicted from military housing shortly after a death is confirmed.
The military elite will use helicopters or ground columns to recover the bodies of high-ranking officers, but lower-ranking soldiers and sergeants are often left where they fall or buried in shallow, unmarked graves.
For the villagers, these spirits remain dark shadows of a tragic era. It serves as a somber testament to the consequences of the junta’s rule—where the cycle of suffering does not end at death, leaving both the living and the dead in a state of perpetual unrest.
