R. Y. Villarreal
Rolando Ybarra Villarreal Jr., born in Corpus Christi, Texas, is a veteran, educator, and emerging writer whose work bridges lived experience with cultural memory. He enlisted in the United States Army in 2004, serving on active duty until 2010. After completing his service, he returned home to pursue higher education, earning his B.A. from Texas A&M University–Corpus Christi as part of the Class of 2022.
Writing under the pseudonym R. Y. Villarreal, he focuses on veteran-centered narratives, regional and cultural folklore, and poetry that explores identity, resilience, and the lingering echoes of conflict. His work is shaped by his South Texas roots, his military background, and his commitment to storytelling as a form of community connection.
Rolando previously taught high school in the Corpus Christi Independent School District, where he emphasized culturally responsive instruction and creative literacy. He is currently enrolled in the Master of Arts in English program at Texas A&M University–Corpus Christi, with an expected graduation in the Class of 2027. I was published once before in Del Mar College's The Siren in 2014 with a short story called "Once When I Was Younger".
Notes on Villareal's work by Associate Editors:
- “truly impactful and emotional storytelling”
- “to talk about the PTSD a war veteran goes through and the trauma that comes with it is an amazing perspective to show that they aren’t alone in this time.”
- “Using the military phrase Semper Primus and getting to know what it means and how it conveys the story is also meaningful as we go through the story.”
Windward Review are pleased to publish R. Y. Villarreal’s "Semper Primus" for Vol. 24: Power, Presence, Perspective. Here is a snippet of his fiction short story:
Semper Primus
"Where are you?
Medic! You yell at the top of your lungs. Medic! Your throat is closing up from fear. The pounding at the door is getting louder as fear and adrenaline over takes your body. The door bursts open and you can see a man with an assault rifle pointed at you. You’re immediate response is to defend yourself; but you’ve slipped in the shower now and tumble to the vinyl tile floor.
The lights are bright and the air is cold.
Your eyes shoot open and you grasp at the air like you’re falling. Your family is all around you. Your mother is in tears being held by your father. Your little brother is there too. He looks startled by the way you’ve woken up. The silence in the room gives way to the sound of your father yelling, “Nurse!”
You struggle to take the breathing mask from your face. The clear plastic tubes filling your nostrils with pure oxygen is tangled in with the diodes and wires that are connected to your chest.
You’re in the hospital again; but this one isn’t a field hospital.
The nurse brings in the Doctor, who tells you that you are going to be alright. She calls you Sergeant, and is quick to leave the room. This only confuses you more; because the last thing you can remember is the explosion turning the truck over. The sound of your weapon firing in three round bursts and the squelch of a radio in the hot desert air.
You’re home now."
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