Surviving the mental and physical wounds of the Vietnam War, this Palos Verdes local finds his own peace
Veteran’s Day is November 11 so what better way to honor veterans, those that have fought for our country and those that have been killed in the line of service, than to share Harold’s story. Convertibles, surfboards and the Beach Boys were part of a daily regimen in 1960s Southern California. These daily drives and dives were no strangers to Harold Gudmundsson.
Harold has always been a local who loved life and had no problem making friends wherever he went. A class act, a good surfer and a student at El Camino College, he was in love and he was happy where he was in life. But, the Vietnam War was no stranger to Harold either. After receiving a thirty-day notice to report for duty, he did the hardest thing he had ever done: he said goodbye to everything he knew and went to face something he knew nothing about.
He traded in his education at El Camino for an education in weaponry. With eight weeks of basic training and weaponry training, the transition from PV to Vietnam was complete. Along with up to 60 other men in his company, he set out into the jungles of Vietnam. Local villages housed friend and foe, leaving a man to make friends while also seeking out the enemy.
“The people that would serve you a beer during the day could very well be the same one shooting at you at night,” Harold said. “Everybody was intermingled and you had no way of telling who was who.”
Harold’s life took a turn as he was turning 21 when he shouted, “incoming!” and then felt a blast send him to the ground.
“I remember it detonating and the piercings hitting me all over my legs,” Harold said. “I recall two guys grabbing me and throwing me into the closest foxhole.”
Harold had detonated a landmine and his legs took the impact. The doctors could do nothing about his injury. If they were to try to remove shrapnel and repair, Harold stood a chance of ending up even worse. It was decided to leave shrapnel inside and send him home. Harold escaped death while most of those he knew in his unit were not so fortunate.
He was eventually stationed at Fort MacArthur in San Pedro, where he felt welcome in a way nowhere else could provide.
“Everyone on base treated me very well. They were always very nice to me,” Harold said. “It was great for me because I had the chance to stay at home because of how close my parents lived to the base.”
For the first time in what was months, but felt like a million years, Harold Gudmundsson laid his head back down on his own pillow. But returning home wasn’t easy: regular facets of life felt like they were first-time experiences and he dealt with an uncontrollable readiness for combat, survivor’s guilt and PTSD.
“I remember going to Torrance Beach with my friends and hearing the helicopters go down the shore,” Harold said. “I remember what that did to me.”
This promising young man who was once in school was now gone. With every physical and emotional step, Harold felt Vietnam. He still does today, exactly the same with 52 years in between. “It just hurts.”
That hurt has presented itself in life’s battles over the years, but it never stopped him from moving on and taking on the struggles that he has learned to combat. Battle and war did not give him any added strength; coming home, immersing himself in the love of friends and family, handling the horrors of Vietnam and finding peace at heart did.
