Send us Fan Mail March 15, 1972. Five days until Dick leaves Vietnam. This is the final letter. After nearly a year of writing—through distance, time, and everything in between—this is the last one. The next time they connect, it won’t be through the mail. It will be in person Support the show The …
Send us Fan Mail March 9, 1972. Eleven days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Now the days start to feel different. Faster. Shorter. Closer together. Dick writes from Vietnam after coming off alert, trying to pass the time while the final days move forward. At home, Sarah is waiting—measuring the distance…
Send us Fan Mail March 11, 1972. Nine days until Dick leaves Vietnam. The days are still heavy—but they’re moving. Sarah writes from home, pushing through exhaustion, physical recovery, and doing everything on her own. Dick writes from Vietnam, finishing his final days on alert and preparing to lea…
Send us Fan Mail Eight days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Now it’s not just close—it’s immediate. Sarah writes from home, feeling the shift in her body and her mind as the days narrow down. The waiting is almost over. The distance is almost gone. They are about to be together again. Support the show T…
Send us Fan Mail March 13, 1972. Seven days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Now it’s measured in days. Dick writes from Vietnam after a long, emotional stretch—finishing his final alert and preparing to leave. Sarah writes from home, feeling the closeness of it all, watching their baby grow, and countin…
Send us Fan Mail March 14, 1972. Six days until Dick leaves Vietnam. This is it. The final letters. Dick writes from Vietnam on his last day of alert, beginning the final steps home. Sarah writes from home, knowing these are the last words they will send across the distance between them. The next t…
Send us Fan Mail March 8, 1972. Twelve days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Now it’s no longer measured in weeks. It’s days. Alerts. Flights. Plans. Sarah writes from home—preparing her body, her home, and their life for his return. Dick writes from Vietnam, counting down his final alerts and imagining …
Send us Fan Mail March 6, 1972. Fourteen days until Dick leaves Vietnam. At home, Sarah holds her newborn daughter close—watching her sleep, noticing every detail, and feeling how quickly attachment takes hold. Across the world, Dick looks at photographs of the life waiting for him, counting down t…
Send us Fan Mail March 7, 1972. Thirteen days until Dick leaves Vietnam. The countdown sharpens. Sarah writes from home, marking time in shorter increments now—phone calls, days, and the moment he will finally be on his way home. Dick writes from Vietnam about the final stretch, the last alerts, an…
Send us Fan Mail March 5, 1972. Fifteen days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Another weekend passes—one of the last they will spend apart. Dick writes from Vietnam about the final stretch, the life he’s ready to leave behind, and the family waiting for him at home. Sarah writes from home about lonelines…
Send us Fan Mail March 3, 1972. Seventeen days until Dick leaves Vietnam. A phone call finally connects them—clear, immediate, almost as if the distance has collapsed for a moment. Dick writes from Vietnam about waiting, timing his departure, and counting the final days. Sarah writes from home afte…
Send us Fan Mail March 4, 1972. Sixteen days until Dick leaves Vietnam. The countdown continues, but now it feels immediate. Dick writes from Vietnam about the final stretch—finishing alert duty, making small preparations, and thinking about the flight that will take him home. Sarah writes from hom…
Send us Fan Mail March 2, 1972. Nineteen days until Dick leaves Vietnam. The countdown continues, but these letters are no longer only about missing each other. Dick writes from Bien Hoa about shipping belongings to Miami, finishing out-processing, and counting the final days. Sarah writes from hom…
Send us Fan Mail March 1, 1972. Twenty days until Dick leaves Vietnam. The final month begins. Sarah writes from home with baby Cissie — doctor visits, sunshine, baby clothes, errands, and the daily work of caring for a child alone. Dick writes from Vietnam, trying to place a phone call, making pla…
Send us Fan Mail February 29, 1972. Twenty-one days until Dick leaves Vietnam. A leap day. In 1972, it was just another day in the final stretch— a cold, a vaporizer, a restless baby, and letters moving back and forth across the world. But this date would come to carry more weight. For now, they ar…
Send us Fan Mail February 27, 1972. Twenty-three days until Dick leaves Vietnam. A quiet Sunday at home. Another day closer. There are baby routines, errands, and small decisions—but everything now lives inside the countdown. They’ve done this before. They counted down to Hawaii. They counted down …
Send us Fan Mail February 28, 1972. Twenty-two days until Dick leaves Vietnam. One more day—and he enters the final month of his tour. At home, it’s a full day—appointments, errands, baby routines, and small purchases that start to shape the life waiting for him. Overseas, it’s quieter. A day on al…
Send us Fan Mail February 25, 1972. Twenty-five days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Another Friday. Another weekend apart. But after this one, only two more remain. The countdown is no longer abstract. It’s measured in weekends now. In routines. In nights spent alone. Two letters. One day. And the spac…
Send us Fan Mail February 26, 1972. Twenty-four days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Another Saturday. Another weekend apart. Only three more to go. The countdown is tightening now — not just in days, but in weekends, in routines, in real life unfolding on both sides. Two letters. One day. And everythin…
Send us Fan Mail February 23, 1972. Twenty-seven days until Dick leaves Vietnam. On the same day, Sarah writes from home with their newborn daughter, and Dick writes from Vietnam—both counting down, both moving toward the same moment. Two letters. One day. The final month continues. Support the sho…
Send us Fan Mail February 24, 1972. Twenty-six days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Three weeks from tonight, they believe they will finally be together for good. On this day, Sarah writes from home—managing the baby, the house, the money, and the countdown—while Dick writes from Vietnam, marking anothe…
Send us Fan Mail February 20, 1972. Thirty days remain. From Vietnam, Dick writes after a lazy day off alert, wondering if his daughter’s milk troubles came from him and counting down to the moment he boards the “big bird” home. In San Antonio, Sarah spends a slow Sunday with baths, laundry, doctor…
Send us Fan Mail February 21, 1972: Strollers, Smiles, and 29 More Days Description February 21, 1972. Twenty-nine days until Dick leaves Vietnam. Thirty until he is home. On opposite sides of the world, Sarah and Dick count down in different ways — one through flight schedules and alert days, the …
Send us Fan Mail February 22, 1972. Twenty-eight days until Dick leaves Vietnam. On this same date, forty-eight years later, he would take his last breath. But in 1972, this was just another day in the final countdown — ham on rye in Bien Hoa, a new baby formula, a tiny hernia, late-night love note…