Merely professional prejudice.

Shortly, then, you fully sustained your share in a long and arduous campaign; you won your commission; you were wounded, decorated, and invalided home." He stopped short in the brilliant sunshine which now flooded their path, and looked gravely at Peter.
"Some of us," said John, "have imagination enough to realize, even without the help of war-correspondents, the scenes of horror through which you, and scores of other boys, fresh from school, like you, had to live through.

We can picture the long hours on the veldt--on the march--in captivity--in the hospitals--in the blockhouses--when soldiers have been sick at heart, wearied to death with physical suffering, and haunted by ghastly memories of dead comrades." Peter hurriedly drew his left hand from the pocket where the beloved tobacco-pouch reposed, and pulled his brown felt hat down over his eyes, as though the October sunlight hurt them.
"I think at such times, Peter," said John, quietly continuing his walk by the boy's side, "that you must have longed now and then for your home; for this peaceful English country, your green English woods, and the silent hall where your mother waited for you, trembled for you, prayed for you.

I think your heart must have ached then, as so many men's hearts have ached, to remember the times when you might have made her happy by a word, or a look, or a smile.

And you didn't do it, Peter--_you didn't do it_." Peter made a restless movement indicative of surprise and annoyance; but he was silent still, and John changed his tone, and spoke lightly and cheerfully.
"Well, then you came home; and your joy of life, of youth, of health all returned; and you looked forward, naturally, to taking your share of the pleasures open to other young men of your standing.