Roy the OG darts barefoot between chalk lines, laughter bubbling from his lips as he dodges a bouncing rubber ball.
He glances back at his friends, Reynold and Rodman, their voices rising above the din of the city. Their parents—faces lined with memories of Jost Van Dyke—watch from the stoops, pride and worry mingling in their eyes.
"One day, we'll travel farther than this whole block," he calls out, a wide grin splitting his face.
Roy the OG sits at the kitchen table, his mother’s gentle hands braiding his hair as his father recounts tales of storms and survival.
"Never forget where you came from, Roy," his father’s voice deep and steady, "Jost Van Dyke’s strength runs in your veins."
The family shares a quiet moment, the city’s noise muted by love and memory.
Roy the OG clutches a letter in his trembling hand, his pre-med textbooks abandoned at his feet.
His friends, Reynold and Rodman, exchange solemn glances—boyhood fading beneath the weight of duty.
"We’ll stick together, no matter what," Roy says, voice thick with determination.
Roy the OG, now a combat medic, checks his supplies beneath flickering lantern light, adrenaline and fear sharpening his senses.
Nearby, wounded men call out for help; Roy’s hands move swiftly, his touch gentle despite the chaos.
"Hold on, brother. You’re not alone," he murmurs, bandaging a comrade’s wound as explosions echo in the distance.
Roy the OG steps forward, helmet askew, rifle slung low. He gestures for the women to follow, his voice calm despite the danger.
Mortar fire erupts, earth shaking beneath their feet. Roy raises his hands, heart pounding, and shouts toward the German line.
"Stop! There are innocents here! We don’t have to keep fighting like this. Surrender—let’s end this together," his plea ringing clear above the chaos.
Roy the OG, stooped with age but eyes still bright, adjusts the Bronze Medal of Honor on his chest. Visitors—young and old—listen in rapt attention as he recounts his journey.
"I’m the last Buffalo Soldier now. But our courage, our hope—that lives on in all of you," he says, voice steady with pride.
Sunlight streams in, casting his silhouette long and proud against the wall—a living bridge between past and future.
















