Mainly, I'm distressed to realize that while others have been fighting this nasty war in Iraq, I've generally avoided thinking about it other than as an abstraction. I don't think I'm alone in putting more emotion into the safe surrogate warfare of sports.

So "In Service," the 90-minute multimedia program of filmed and live testimonies about the war produced by Bricolage and Pittsburgh Filmmakers, has an immediate impact. It does so primarily because the soldiers who tell their stories are, one, so young, and two, from right around here in Western Pennsylvania.

For all the program's technological complexity, with video interviews on a big screen, home movies of the war running visual counterpoint on two small screens, an actor reading some stories and interspersed live autobiographical testimonies, the gut impact of "In Service" comes from its homemade, hometown earnestness. You wouldn't call it art: It's too raw, and in that rawness is power.

The main material is 15 interviews with returned soldiers, both male and female, plus a couple of correspondents and a government official. Cut into thematic excerpts, they're gathered into "chapters" titled The Call, And Now It Begins, Mission, The Sandbox, Action Has a Way of Finding You, We Got Him, Iraqi People, Heroes and Coming Home.

Scattered throughout are the live segments, both prose and poetry, mainly short and one long -- the big "Cadence" number recited (and chanted) by Sgt. Helen Gerhardt. Generally, the lack of performing polish gives these even greater sincerity, and actor Joshua Reese adds his own earnest restraint.

The live testimonies and video interviews are all about the nitty gritty business of war and the emotions the participants feel. We hear about the pervasive Iraqi sand and the daily swing from 40 degrees at night to 130 degrees at midday. A lot is about the routine, with the threat of violence simmering unspoken. Some memories are even comic, such as an account of an exploding dormitory tent, which finds its heart in the loss of a journal being kept to show future children and grandchildren -- ordinary humanity amid extraordinary events.

Gradually, as their faces return, you come to recognize the individual interviewees: the matter-of-factness of Lisa Rose Weaver, an embedded CNN correspondent; the heart-touching face of Capt. Danielle Dibacco; the thoughtful commentary of Sgt. Shawn Bronson; and the offhand heroism of Cpl. James Stuck, who, having lost a leg, is more interested in praising the heroism of others.

The theatrical parallel I kept hearing was to "Our Town," where Emily Webb, having died, is overwhelmed with the poignancy of everyday life and how oblivious the living are to its wonders. These soldiers are not oblivious in that way, and they teach us not to be.

"I admire these kids," someone says. "Nobody knows that they're here." Guilty.

The title of "In Service," you see, means what it says. These soldiers have been in service to -- what? Us? Our government? Some geopolitical idea?

"In Service" doesn't have an overt political agenda, unless you think (as the Bush administration has thought) that even calling attention to our soldiers' sacrifices is somehow unpatriotic. Aside from a few tentative questions, the video and live testimonies take no anti-war positions. They just provide lots of human detail. But humanizing the inhuman inevitably has political implication.

Kudos, then, to artistic director Jeffrey Carpenter, director of multimedia Ralph Vituccio, director of photography Anita Harish and the other creators. And kudos and admiration to those who have shared their stories. "In Service" is a service indeed.