War Changes a Person, a hogan's heroes fanfic

Author's note: This is my first fanfiction ever, and it sort of just came on a whim, so please be kind. Tell me if you think I made mistakes or if you think of ways I could improve. Also, forgive me as I'm having trouble formatting this thing.

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In that moment,

his eyes reminded me of the ocean,

so full of life,

and twinkling a light blue.

I couldn't bring myself to disagree

with his youthful excitement

at the idea of joining the Air Force.

In my heart I was worried,

as any friend ought to be,

as I thought this decision

rash and unwise.

But who would I be

to extinguish that flame?

The day he left for training

is one I'll never forget.

Dressed to the nines in his uniform

he waved goodbye as he boarded,

a beaming smile

that promised of adventure

showing proudly on his face.

I stood there

wishing he was back already.

I remember my heart almost stopped

the day we entered the war,

and his letters told us

that he was being sent into combat.

Many days I paced the floor of my apartment thin,

waiting for his next letter,

to say he was okay and safe.

I remember the day his letters stopped coming

and his parents and I averted our gazes when we saw each other in public,

each afraid to voice the possibility

that the day he left was the last day we'd ever see him.

One day when I got home

I was accosted by his parents,

who had finally received word of what had happened.

He and his crew had been shot down over one of the enemy countries

and taken as a Prisoner of War.

It wasn't the best news,

but at least he was alive.

Years later the fighting stopped.

We had won.

He would come home.

We waited for him at the airport,

with posters and signs welcoming him back,

and a huge crowd of relieved friends and family.

He stepped off the airplane, and we waved him over.

He grabbed a small suitcase and walked down the ramp

and started towards us,

a tired smile on his face.

When he got close enough,

I could tell.

He just wasn't the same.

I had never thought about

how war would change him,

or how that last time I saw him

could have been the last time I saw him as I remembered him.

These had never been possibilities to me,

until he came back.

He was given a month to relax –

or re-acclimate, as that was really what it was –

so I had plenty of time to hang out with him.

But I was caught off guard

every time he'd say something

or get that look in his eyes

that reminded me

that he had been a soldier in war.

Small things had changed,

such as his laugh;

It was small and hesitant,

as though he was afraid to be too happy,

when it used to be able to fill a room up with joy.

Every time we entered a smaller space,

I noticed his guard went up,

and his shoulders tensed,

and he would become hyper-alert,

aware of every small thing.

He nearly took my head off one time,

when I caught him unawares from behind.

Where he used to jump slightly and laugh,

he tensed,

and his fight-or-flight instinct

chose to fight as if his life depended on it.

It frightened me slightly,

when I would lay awake

and think about the changes,

Because I couldn't understand how

a confident young man who laughed at the world

could come back so broken and scared.

And when I asked anyone about it,

I would get the same answer,

"War changes a person,"

every time.

I just find it unfair.

Because although I may try to find