Jean Stimmell, retired stone mason and psychotherapist, lives in Northwood and blogs at jeanstimmell.blogspot.com.

The Vietnam War was a collective trauma that became a double-edged sword, representing both an unforgettable nightmare and the bloody spur that drove the transformational change that defined the 1960s. Alongside the Civil Rights movement, this war propelled social justice and sustainability to the forefront of our generation’s consciousness.

The conflict killed over 58,000 Americans and 3 million Vietnamese, including appalling massacres at places like My Lai, where American soldiers slaughtered more than 500 women, children and old men.

We dropped over 5 million tons of bombs on Vietnam — the most extensive bombardment of any country in history — and more than twice as much tonnage as was dropped in all of World War II.

The Vietnam War, in tandem with Rachel Carson’s ‘Silent Spring’, drove home the horrific dangers of pesticides, awakening the environmental movement. Vietnam stands front and center because it is an epicenter of wild species diversity, with many unique species. That was especially true before we flattened rural areas with 4 million tons of bombs, 400,000 tons of napalm and 19 million gallons of Agent Orange 3 – a curse for which I receive a VA disability.

Those of us in our generation who experienced our country running amok in the Vietnam era yearned for a simpler, more authentic and more sustainable lifestyle.

Here’s the background to my writing this: I was sitting around, feeling sorry for myself while recuperating from an operation, when I stumbled across a mesmerizing New York Times photo essay commemorating the 50th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War.

The Vietnam photographs propelled me off the couch, overwhelmed by vivid memories of those years. As Viet Thanh Nguyen, the Vietnamese American author, wrote: “All wars are fought twice, the first time on the battlefield, the second time in memory.”

Here are a few of mine:

I served in the Navy on an LST that delivered troops and equipment along the coast and into the rivers of Vietnam. I didn’t encounter much combat, but in 1968, the year I returned home, my ship, Westchester County LST 1167, was mined by Viet Cong sappers, resulting in the loss of 23 men, some of whom I knew.

The Vietnam War was personal to every American because of the sheer number of casualties and the fact that no one could feel safe because of the draft. Country Joe’s popular song expressed everyone’s worst fear: “Don’t be the first on your block to get sent home in a box.”

I grew up in Northwood but attended Pittsfield High School. Among my circle of friends, two were killed in action, three returned with disabling wounds and one committed suicide.

My personal memories wouldn’t make it onto a John Wayne highlight reel. We were relatively safe, battling only the stress and exhaustion of shuttling soldiers and armaments around, sometimes for months at a time without setting foot on land. There was no respite: Four hours on duty and four hours off in the tropical heat that burned our feet through the soles of our shoes while our garbage piled up on the deck like a blossoming tent city.

I remember the suicides in our squadron: a boy found hanging in the paint locker; the boy on the midnight stern watch who disappeared into the shimmering wake sometime between midnight and 4 a.m. There were others as well. It was always the youngest and the newest: It’s quite a shock to go from your Midwestern high school basketball games to float aimlessly around on the South China Sea, halfway around the world.

I also remember with gratitude both the goodness and diversity of the men I served alongside. It still amazes me that one can assemble a crew made up of individuals from every conceivable background who, under trying circumstances, become a tight-knit clan of brothers able to overlook each other’s shortcomings and come together in camaraderie to accomplish what had to be done.

In closing, I want to remind younger generations who resent us baby boomers — sometimes for good reason — that not all of us have spurned our obligations to our fellow citizens and the natural world to live high off the hog, greedily making money at the expense of others.

Many of us shaped by the blast furnace of Vietnam have rejected America’s wasteful, consumer society and have instead worked to create a more sustainable society based on social and environmental justice.