Unlike most war poems, this one has nearly nothing to do with the battlefield. No artillery shells are dropping, no armies are charging, no wounds are festering (yep, we went there). In fact, it's downright quiet.
We don't get a lot of details here, but the most important thing about this setting is that the vet has come home, where people just don't seem to get it. No matter where he goes—home in stanza 1, work in stanza 2, the bar in stanza 3, people assume he's doing fine, simply because he's fought for his country and doesn't complain.
If we had only one word to describe this setting, it would be clueless. The folks on the home front just don't get it. And that's a Big Problem.