Send us a text In this unforgettable letter, Dick writes from Vietnam late at night, his heart overflowing with joy after finally learning the news he’s been hoping for—Sarah is pregnant. The call comes while he’s on duty with the Pedro unit, flying HH-43 helicopters for the Aerospace Rescue and Re…
Send us a text Dick writes from Vietnam after a hectic day flying training missions with his Pedro unit—the HH-43 helicopter crews of the Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron. He’s worn out, longing for rest, and desperate to connect with Sarah, having already spent hours trying to reach her by p…
Send us a text On May 14, 1971, Dick writes from Vietnam with a letter that is equal parts playful, protective, and tender. He jokes about Sarah’s doctor getting a little too familiar with her “nice boobs,” expresses real concern about her health, and shares his growing emotional fatigue from being…
Send us a text In this May 13, 1971 letter, Dick writes from Vietnam with a mixture of relief and longing after receiving a batch of letters from Sarah. He responds to her stories—some we haven’t yet read—which reminds me that a few letters might still be waiting in the stack or possibly lost to ti…
Send us a text It’s May 12, 1971, and Dick has just returned to Biên Hòa Air Base after completing jungle survival school in the Philippines. This letter marks a moment of transition: he’s no longer in training, but he hasn’t yet flown any Pedro rescue missions. For now, he’s back on base—and final…
Send us a text It’s May 11, 1971, and Sarah’s letter arrives just after Mother’s Day weekend—a date that feels especially poignant as she quietly suspects she may be pregnant. She hasn’t received confirmation, and Dick still has no idea. None of her recent letters have reached him yet, including th…
Send us a text This is letter number 18, written by my mom, Sarah Allgood, to my dad, Dick, on May 10, 1971. The more I read these letters, the more I believe they saved them for a reason—not to be shared in the moment, but to be read long after they were gone. Maybe even by me. Because what they h…
Send us a text In this May 9th letter, Sarah writes late into the night after a long day of cleaning, sorting, and keeping herself busy in his absence. She’s exhausted but thoughtful—asking about stereo equipment for a friend, wondering if she should look into a surgical job closer to Vietnam, and …
Send us a text On May 9, 1971, Richard finally receives his first letter from Sarah — Number 11. While she’s written many times since he left, this is the only one that’s made it to him so far. Now back in Vietnam after jungle survival school, Richard shares updates from Saigon with his signature b…
Send us a text It’s May 8, 1971, and Sarah is writing from the apartment she shared with Richard near Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. Earlier that day, she unpacked a box of surprises he sent from Las Vegas before deploying to Vietnam—dishes, small treasures, and bits of their life together…
Send us a text In this letter from May 8, 1971, my dad writes from the patio of the Officers’ Club at Clark Air Force Base. He’s packed, ready, and counting down the hours until he returns to Bien Hoa and finally gets the year underway. Even in the quiet moments, you can feel how much he misses my …
Send us a text In this letter from May 7, 1971, my mom, Sarah, is doing her best to stay strong while missing my dad. She had just received some surprises he sent before leaving the States—they arrived safely, and she’s slowly unpacking them. She even tries going to the Officers’ Club with friends,…
Send us a text In this May 7, 1971 letter, Capt. Richard Allgood has just completed jungle survival school in the Philippines and is preparing to return to Bien Hoa. Though relieved to be done with the bugs and challenges of jungle life, he’s still in the dark—he hasn’t received any of Sarah’s lett…
Send us a text In this warm, humorous, and deeply tender letter from May 6, 1971, Sarah writes to Richard shortly after he completes jungle survival school in Vietnam. With no contact during his time away, the sound of his vo...
Send us a text In this vulnerable and heartfelt letter dated May 4, 1971, Sarah Allgood writes from the stillness of 4 a.m., aching with worry and longing for her husband, Richard, who is deep in jungle survival school in Vie...
Send us a text In this May 2, 1971 letter, Richard writes from yet another plane — this time en route to a survival school in the Philippine jungle. Though he reassures Sarah that his living quarters at Bien Hoa are comfortab...
Send us a text On May 1st, 1971, just three nights into his deployment, my father writes from Vietnam with a heart full of longing and a mind already spinning with plans to get back home. He’s not yet in the thick of missions...
Send us a text April 30, 1971 — First Day, Last Flight In this letter from April 30, 1971, my father has just arrived at Bien Hoa after a long journey to Vietnam. It’s his first full day on base, and already he’s soaking in t...
Send us a text After a long, exhausting journey through Alaska, Japan, and the Philippines, Richard Allgood finally reaches Vietnam. In his first letter home, he shares the surprising comforts of his new base — but beneath ev...
Send us a text In this first episode, I introduce you to the story behind this podcast— a true love story between two young Air Force veterans during the Vietnam war. Through their preserved letters, we’ll walk together throu...
Send us a text On April 28, 1971, my father, Richard Allgood, began his journey from Texas to Vietnam. He said goodbye to my mother, Sarah, not yet knowing that she was pregnant with me — news that would arrive a month later ...