Army Sgt. Gabriel Guzman, 25, Concord; killed by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan

Gabriel Guzman was serious about physical fitness and martial arts -- even if he could be a joker about so many other things.

His former girlfriend, Amy Molloy, 24, said she bought him a huge set of swords and knives one Christmas.

“He really had that warrior mentality,” she said. “When he wasn’t doing martial arts, he was playing video games that had to do with war.”

Guzman, 25, also could be a “goofball,” she said, a class-clown type who stayed sober at parties and poked fun at inebriated friends. He had a habit of quoting catchphrases from “The Simpsons.”

“He was someone everyone looked up to,” Molloy said. “He didn’t follow the crowd. He led the crowd. He knew how to talk to people.”

When Guzman was 17 and she was 16, they had a baby, Angela Haley Guzman. They knew she would be born with Down syndrome but wanted to keep her and raise her. It was time for the wise-cracking, fun-loving warrior to do some growing up.

Five years ago, the native of Concord, Calif., joined the Army, becoming a member of the 82nd Airborne Division in 2004. He went to Iraq and then Afghanistan.

“I know when he first went to Iraq, he was kind of excited. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was ready to do it. He wanted to fight for his country,” Molloy said. “Going to Afghanistan is something he really didn’t want to do. He was scared to go to Afghanistan.”

Sgt. Gabriel Guzman died March 8 in Orgun, Afghanistan, of injuries suffered when his Humvee struck a roadside bomb near Gholam Haydar Kala, near the Pakistani border. He was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division at Ft. Bragg, N.C.

At his funeral, one of his commanders spoke glowingly of his skill and character.

“Gabe was a warrior, and a fierce one,” said his sister, Anni Watson, 28. “I was proud of him. I looked up to him and wanted him to be proud of me.”

Perhaps bucking the military stereotype, Guzman studied Daoism and Buddhism.

“He said, ‘I think I would be a Daoist if I didn’t have to be so selfless,’ ” Watson recalled. “He knew that he wouldn’t be able to give up everything.”

His mother, Shelley Tucker, said her son had a “natural good humor and smile. He made friends everywhere.”

She said he “was counting the days until he could go home. I think it’s time we find peaceful ways to live on this planet together. But I am so proud of my son, who always gave his best.”

Watson was 21 hours into labor at a hospital when she found out from Army officers that her brother was dead. She screamed at them to leave. Her son was born soon after. “Everything was bittersweet,” she said. “My mom was there, crying the whole time. You can’t not have the baby. I had to put everything else aside. It was the best day of my life, and the worst day of my life.”

Watson said the last time she communicated with her brother was seven days before his death, when he sent her an e-mail with a simple message: “Happy due date.”

Although the Department of Defense listed his hometown as Hornbrook, Calif., Guzman grew up in Concord. He went to Oak Grove Middle School and Concord High School.

He had talked about making a career out of the Army, Watson said, but after his time in Iraq, he talked about maybe becoming a California Highway Patrol officer or going to college.

Molloy said that even though she and Guzman had broken up, he wanted to have a closer relationship with his daughter, but it was a struggle.

“In the beginning, when she was a baby, he was always getting on the floor with her and rolling around with her,” Molloy said. “As she started getting older, it became more difficult for him to communicate with her. But he tried.”

The last time he visited before heading back to Afghanistan, Guzman talked about spending even more time with Angela, now 7, when he returned. He was supposed to return to California in May.

“One of the main reasons for him to be in the military was to be able to provide for her,” Molloy said. “He talked a lot about her. He really loved her.”

Molloy, who works up to 18 hours some days as a nurse assistant and a waitress, said she is unsure if her daughter understands the concept of death. But she saw her father lying in the casket. And she saw the faces of the mourners.

“At the viewing, she saw him there, and she saw the picture of him on the wall,” Molloy said. “She knows it’s him. But I’m not sure she understands she’ll never see him again.”

In addition to his daughter, mother and sister Anni, Guzman is survived by his father, Reynaldo Guzman; and another sister, Heidi Guzman.

hector.becerra@latimes.com