Watching such naked emotion seems almost indecent. Isn't it a kind of voyeurism, well-intended or not? Restrepo gives you a vicarious taste of the adrenaline rush, of the primal bonding of combat, without the pain and letdown endured by the men who, like Restrepo, lose their lives and leave their names behind on the battlefield. Or those others who survive but leave behind a part of their souls.
