‘We must love our enemy’: A medic’s faith on Myanmar’s frontlines

The young resistance fighter’s lungs were collapsing fast. Gasping for air, he was on the verge of death. Shrapnel had torn open his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. Aung Zay Ya, a civilian combat medic for the Free Burma Rangers (FBR), knew what to do. Within seconds he pulled out a decompression needle and inserted it into the injured fighter’s chest cavity to release trapped air, allowing his lung to re-expand and restore airflow. The man’s life was saved—another life pulled back from the brink of death on the frontlines of the battle of Bawlakhe in eastern Myanmar’s Karenni State. Aung Zay Ya says he doesn’t know how many people he has saved since joining FBR, a non-profit that offers medical support and humanitarian aid across Myanmar. But he knows there is nowhere he’d rather be than on the frontline of the struggle against military rule. Dodging airstrikes and machine gun fire comes with the job. His group of medics are at their most active in the heat of battle, patching up wounded resistance soldiers and civilians. “Going to the frontline is intense—maybe even crazy—but I like it,” Aung Zay Ya says. “When I first joined the revolution, I met many resistance fighters, but I didn’t want to kill anyone. I just wanted to help, to rescue people. That’s why I joined the Free Burma Rangers. They don’t kill the enemy—they focus on saving lives.” A group of Rangers plan out a section of territory where they will join a Karenni resistance assault on a junta position (Photo: Caleb Quinley / Myanmar Now) ‘Could be killed at any moment’ Aung Zay Ya puts his finger down on a map. He is surrounded by a group of medical rangers, huddled in a circle the day before battle. His voice is clear, filled with purpose. He marks where the fighting will take place and instructs his team, informing them of their respective positions. Moments before they convene, a menacing roar bears down on them from above—a constant reminder that catastrophe looms not just in the jungle around them, but also from the sky. This is the source of the real risk, the men say. “At the frontline, you can be killed at any moment, in any number of ways,” Aung Zay Ya remarks soberly. “You never know what’s coming.” At a hidden location just a few kilometres from Bawlakhe, several Karenni resistance battalions have congregated to discuss their battle plans. Their goal? To take one of Karenni State’s most strategically important towns back from the junta, crushing the military forces stationed there in one fell swoop. Just to the side, commanders speak in hushed tones. They are shielded by dense foliage and mountainous terrain, but the buzz of a Y8 military transport and reconnaissance plane makes the junta’s presence feel very near. Every few minutes, the sound of artillery thunders in our ears. Clashes have been ongoing for days, but the real battle for the town was about to begin. “The military could never win if they didn’t have their planes,” Aung Zay Ya told me as he looked up at the sky. “They could never have success if the fight was only on the ground. It’s only their drones and aircraft that give them an advantage.” Aung Zay Ya meets with Karenni resistance fighters on the frontline of the resistance offensive in Bawlakhe (Photo: Caleb Quinley / Myanmar Now) The Rangers are critical to resistance operations across Karenni and Karen states. Near the frontline that day, I’m told that the FBR medics have proven their worth time and time again. Many have built close relationships with the fighters. In many ways, they are cut from the same cloth—motivated young people stepping up to save their country from a tyrannous junta. The Rangers have been a lifeline across Myanmar’s conflict zones since the 1980s: an unconventional network of volunteers and trained medics delivering care where almost no one else will. Since the 2021 coup, their role has only deepened. They now move alongside resistance forces on the frontlines, patching up injured fighters and sometimes even junta soldiers in the thick of war. Aung Zay Ya, 33, is one of their top volunteers. He is a former businessman from Kachin State who gave it all up after hearing about the Rangers. These days, he is deputy head of FBR’s operations in Karenni State, where battles have intensified. Radiating charisma, he effortlessly brings a sense of calm in situations that create anxiety and fear. “I joined the revolution because the military’s duty is to protect its people—not to kill them,” Aung Zay Ya told me. “Even when we protested peacefully, they responded with violence, killing demonstrators across Burma.” “And that is injustice. We couldn’t stay silent. I had to act, that’s why I joined the revolution. When the coup happened, we lost everything: our voice, our future, our freedom. It was all taken from us.” Known for his unshakable nerve under pressure, Aung Zay Ya quickly earned a reputation as one of FBR’s top combat medics. A devout Christian, he prays before every mission. His composure and grit caught the attention of the group’s founder, Dave Eubank, who promoted him into leadership not long after he joined. Dave Eubank, the founder of the Free Burma Rangers, leads hundreds of medics across Myanmar (Photo: Free Burma Rangers) “He is very special in that he’s highly educated. He has deep insights, great self-awareness, love, faith in God, love of people, the ability to admit mistakes and confess them when he’s not even caught. And admit them when he is caught, and always try to improve,” Eubank said. “He has a huge heart of compassion, crying easily at any loss of a Ranger or anyone else. That’s just a tender heart of God. It’s God’s heart.” Eubank, who was a US Army Special Forces and Ranger officer before he went on to found and lead FBR, noted other qualities that made Aung Zay Ya stand out among the many remarkable men and women that he has worked with over the decades. “He’s very physically brave, even though he’ll admit to you he's terrified every time something happens. He still goes through that fear to help people, to bridge communication gaps, to help organise the movement of wounded, to actually carry the wounded himself, whatever it takes. And he’ll never desert anyone.” Eubank explained that FBR’s work spans every aspect of the conflict: from frontline rescue to political engagement, humanitarian aid, and spiritual support. In his view, what makes FBR unique is the chance to be involved in all of it, helping the wounded, discussing reform, distributing aid, supporting children, and praying with those in need. Aung Zay Ya has all of those skills, he added. And on top of that, he has a strong ability to manage complex operations, train others, and improve whatever he’s involved in. It’s a sentiment shared by the young men and women who volunteer at FBR under him. “Even in danger, he stays calm,” said a young Ranger named Kue Kue. “He can manage problems very well. In meetings, he’s quick but careful. He makes clear, calculated decisions.” “He gives us a feeling of safety. If I had to choose a leader near the frontline, I would always choose him.” A devout Christian, Aung Zay Ya attributes his compassion and lack of hatred for the Myanmar military to his relationship with God (Photo: Caleb Quinley / Myanmar Now) ‘Signs from God’ When Aung Zay Ya first joined FBR, he went on a mission that almost cost him his life. A series of events has reinforced an idea that something from above is watching over him, keeping him safe even during the darkest hours. “It was during Operation 1111 in October 2024, after three days of fighting,” he said, explaining the moment the first incident occurred. “I got word from the front that someone was wounded. Then a column leader found me and said there were civilians stranded in a church. I brought a truck there and picked up about 25 to 30 IDPs.” “While driving them back, I heard over the radio that a jet fighter was coming. I thought it would strike the frontline, not me. But then a missile hit behind the truck. I saw the smoke in my rear-view mirror and realized, ‘Oh shit, they’re targeting me.’” “I started driving fast. We reached a village near a rice field, there was no cover, no concrete, nothing. An airstrike there could easily kill us. Then they fired again—and missed.” “I kept driving, but the jet came back a third time. Some of my fellow Rangers were on top of the truck and shouted that the jet was diving toward us. I could see it too: it felt like evil was coming straight at me. I was so scared. In that moment, I don’t even remember what was happening—I just closed my eyes and started to pray: ‘Lord, help me.’” “Suddenly, I slammed the brakes. The engine shut off and the truck came to a complete stop. I looked up—and about three meters in front of us, machine gun fire ripped through the road. Dust flew everywhere. That was the first miracle.” Another bone-chilling moment came when he was sent to rescue a wounded soldier in an area known to be heavily mined. He’d been warned to move with extreme caution. As he advanced, he heard the distant blasts of other mines going off. Just a few feet from reaching the injured fighter, something told him to stop. Looking down, he saw a thin wire inches from his shins—rigged to two landmines on either side. One more step, and he would’ve been killed. Lin, his wife, says that she has had to learn how to cope with the fear that she always feels when Aung Zay Ya is away on the front. She explains that she draws strength both from her own work with internally displaced persons and from her faith. “I’m one of the volunteers helping IDPs with humanitarian aid and psychosocial support,” she says. “So I know how to emotionally cope, practice self-care, and support Aung Gyi.” She adds that whenever her greatest fear—that he will be seriously injured—sets in, she prays to God for his safety, and for the protection of his fellow medics and their people. “I am always proud of him. His sacrifices are an inspiration and a source of pride for me. My family is always proud of him. And when we have children, I will tell them how brave their father was.” A Karenni resistance fighter moves closer to the edge of the frontline just hours before the start of a large offensive (Photo: Caleb Quinley / Myanmar Now) Faith on the frontlines A couple of days before the start of a large offensive to liberate the town of Bawlakhe, Aung Zay Ya and I sat on the bank of the Salween River as the sun began to set. We had just had a swim, after days in the jungle without a chance to bathe. As dark rain clouds dissipated overhead, I asked him why this battle was so important. “Bawlakhe is critical for transportation, for diplomatic relations with Thailand, and it sends a signal that we have almost fully liberated the state,” he told me. “I predict it will be one of the largest battles we’ve experienced since we attacked Loikaw in Operation 1111. There will be a lot of artillery, many airstrikes, and fierce resistance from the junta troops. It will not be easy.” During the Battle of Bawlakhe in June, Karenni resistance forces launched a major offensive against Myanmar junta positions. They successfully overran two strategic outposts, seized weapons—including artillery and drone jammers—and inflicted heavy losses on junta troops. In another recent battle, the resistance was able to almost fully take control of the town of Hpasawng. But it came at a cost. An FBR combat medic named Oo Reh was killed in an airstrike as he was rushing a group of wounded away from the front. He was close to Aung Zay Ya, and one of the group’s top Karenni medics. A KNDF soldier in a hidden jungle camp in Hpasawng, Karenni State (Photo: Caleb Quinley / Myanmar Now) These operations marked a significant push by allied resistance groups, aimed at triggering further gains across the region. Both battles were militarily successful, but resulted in significant casualties for the resistance. Faced with such losses, Aung Zay Ya sometimes struggles to reconcile his faith with the death and destruction all around him. He questions the purpose of all of this suffering. But despite the horrors of war, his faith remains unshaken. “I know that God has a plan,” he said. “Often I see casualties and the death of young people, and I wonder why is this allowed to happen. But I know that the answer is that God has a plan for this. He has a plan for me, for all of us. And I know he’s with us.” Others who have worked alongside Aung Zay Ya have noted his ability to put his convictions to practical use in the service of others. General Khu Reedu of the Karenni Nationalities Defence Force on the frontline of the Battle of Bawlakhe (Photo: Caleb Quinley / Myanmar Now) “Aung Zay Ya is more unique than others,” said Khu Reedu, a general of the Karenni Nationalities Defence Force, an ethnic Karenni armed group formed in response to the junta’s brutal crackdown on anti-coup protests. “No one can deny that Aung Zay Ya and his team’s innovative actions and dedication have saved many comrades’ lives during multiple battles in Karenni State,” he added. But while others may admire him for his courage and competence, for Aung Zay Ya himself, it is compassion that matters most in life, even in the bleakest corners of conflict. In a revolution marked by suffering, his message is simple: “We must love our enemy.” “What we really need is more love—not war. Love is fundamental to justice, peace and freedom,” he said. “So we must share love with everyone. I want people to know that we must try to end these wars and instead replace the violence with love.”

‘We must love our enemy’: A medic’s faith on Myanmar’s frontlines

A frontline medic in Myanmar’s civil war risks his life not to fight, but to save—and to love, even in the face of violence

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