Episodes
June 10, 1971 — “So Tired… and Missing You”
Send us a text June 10, 1971. My father was flying with the HH-43 Pedro rescue team in Vietnam. My mother was an Air Force nurse stationed in Texas—eight weeks pregnant with me and counting the days until they could be together again. In this letter, she writes after an exhausting day in the O.R., …
June 10, 1971 — A Rescue Pilot’s Letter Home: Reading, R&R, and Our F…
Send us a text In this June 10, 1971 letter from Vietnam, my dad—then flying rescue missions with the U.S. Air Force Pedro team—writes to my mom about R&R plans, tracks her pregnancy dates, and talks about how he’s passing the long hours on alert by reading pocket novels. My dad loved to read a…
“How Will It Be for You to Make Love to a Very Pregnant Wife?” — June…
Send us a text In this playful, passionate letter from June 9, 1971, my mom writes to my dad with longing and complete honesty. She reassures him about her faithfulness, jokes about how things will be when they are finally together again — when she’ll be visibly pregnant with me — and reflects on h…
“I Couldn’t Call — My Eyes Clouded with Tears” — June 8, 1971
Send us a text “I Couldn’t Call — My Eyes Clouded with Tears” — June 8, 1971 Description: This letter from June 8, 1971, left me in tears. My dad, writing from Vietnam, finally tells my mom why he never called her from the airport before he deployed. He says it took him four tries just to address a…
“I Had to Pause for Tears So I Could Talk” — June 8, 1971
Send us a text In this short but deeply emotional letter from June 8, 1971, my mom writes to my dad after recording her very first tape to send him in Vietnam. She’d waited for her tape recorder to arrive — and now that it has, she spends more than an hour trying to get her first message just right…
“I Don’t Want to Be Apart Anymore” — June 9, 1971
Send us a text In this letter from June 9, 1971, my dad writes one of the most vulnerable and pivotal letters of his deployment. He’s just been selected for a Regular commission — a path that would keep him in the Air Force for several more years, requiring more flying, more moves, and more time ap…
tle: “You Are My Lover, Wife, and Mother of My Baby” — June 7, 1971
Send us a text n this letter from June 7, 1971, my dad — writing from Vietnam — pours out his heart to my mom. He talks about everyday things: bank accounts, sending money home, chatting with fellow airmen. But what really comes through is how much he loved her — and how excited he was about the ba…
June 7, 1971 — Marking Off the Days Until You’re Home
Send us a text It’s June 7, 1971. Today my mom, Sarah Allgood, writes with a light and playful tone, even while missing my dad deeply. She shares her day, a bit of gossip, her efforts to stay healthy for her pregnancy with me, and the simple ways she and her friends found comfort during these long …
“Together We Are One” — June 6, 1971
Send us a text In this heartfelt letter from June 6, 1971, Dick writes to Sarah after receiving a welcome surprise: three letters from her in one day. He shares the story behind the Smoky Topaz ring he sent from Bangkok, offers practical advice on navigating military red tape, and vents his frustra…
“June 5, 1971: The Dong Sock and the Bigger Picture”
Send us a text In today’s letter, Dick writes from Vietnam with a blend of laughter and perspective. He’s received a handmade “dong sock” from Sarah — a hilarious and intimate gift that sets the tone — but as he sits in the sun and reflects, he shares something deeper. He explains why, despite the …
June 4, 1971 – Banana Sandwiches, Grape Soda, and Missing You
Send us a text In today’s letter, Sarah writes from the apartment she once shared with Dick—the same one where their love story unfolded before Vietnam. Now pregnant and alone, she spends her day reading and rereading his letters, talking to his photo, and remembering the little things that still m…
June 4, 1971 – Fire Near the Post Office, Airmail from the Heart
Send us a text In this letter from June 4, 1971, Dick shares quiet reflections from a rare day off in Vietnam—until a fire near the post office nearly sends his heart racing. For a moment, he fears that Sarah’s letters might have gone up in smoke. Luckily, only the club’s liquor stash is lost, prom…
June 3, 1971 – Letters, Longing, and Life on Alert
Send us a text In this June 3rd letter from Vietnam, Dick Allgood writes to his pregnant wife Sarah during a long alert shift. He sends Polaroid snapshots, cracks jokes about his young fellow airmen, and yearns for home with a mix of tenderness and teasing humor. Beneath the banter, you can hear hi…
June 3, 1971: Slashing, Shitting, and Scrubbing Heart Cases
Send us a text On June 3, 1971, my mom did what only she could do: she powered through a brutal wave of early pregnancy symptoms — vomiting, diarrhea, and all — and still showed up for the night shift. She worked in the OR, short-staffed, with a drunk supervisor, missing paperwork, and major heart …
June 2, 1971 – “Cram It”: Sarah Takes No Orders
Send us a text On June 2, 1971, while Dick serves on alert in Vietnam, Sarah fights her own battle on the home front — against a broken military bureaucracy trying to force her into more months of work during her pregnancy. In this bold, funny, and sharply worded letter, she tells them exactly wher…
“Another Day Closer to You” — June 2, 1971
Send us a text In this heartfelt letter from June 2, 1971, Dick writes to Sarah with deep affection, offering updates from Vietnam while encouraging her to take care of herself and their unborn child. He assures her of his constant love, fantasizes about their reunion, and expresses excitement abou…
June 1, 1971: The Ring, the Letters, and the Love
Send us a text Welcome back to The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love. It’s June 1, 1971, and a brand-new chapter begins. In today’s episode, Sarah writes from San Antonio after receiving a surprise in the mail — a ring from Dick that fits perfectly and feels like it was made just for her. …
“June Begins: Happy in Depression”
Send us a text Welcome to a new month in The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love. With this June 1st letter, we begin a new chapter—one that feels different in a deeply personal way. Until now, I had already read every letter. But from here forward, I’m reading them for the very first time. …
“May 31, 1971: Tears, Laughter, and the Sound of His Voice”
Send us a text In this May 31, 1971 letter, my mom Sarah takes us on an emotional ride: from laughter and sarcasm to loneliness and back again. She starts the letter lightheartedly—listing all the things she and Joy somehow convinced someone to buy during a furniture shopping spree. But then the de…
“May 31, 1971: Holding You in a Different Way”
Send us a text In this May 31, 1971 letter, my father Dick writes to my mother Sarah from Vietnam. He’s on alert but has a quiet day—one of those rare moments in a war zone where nothing happens, and the waiting becomes the hardest part. But he fills that space with devotion. He buys cassette tapes…
May 28, 1971: A Letter, a Nap, and a Baby on the Way
Send us a text It’s May 28, 1971, and my mother Sarah is “seepy,” early in her pregnancy, and missing my father with every fiber of her being. In this letter, she shares the small details of her day: breakfast with Joy, a quiet trip to the BX, and the joy of finding a surprise she plans to send him…
“Chapter 1: Through the Eyes of Love Begins”
Send us a text After 47 letters exchanged between April 27 and May 30, 1971, this recap looks back on the first month of separation between Captains Dick and Sarah Allgood—newlyweds, both serving in the U.S. Air Force, and already holding onto something much bigger than distance. In this special ep…
“Another ‘Being’ to Love” — May 30, 1971
Send us a text In this May 30, 1971 letter from Bien Hoa Air Base, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his pregnant wife Sarah, who’s serving as an Air Force nurse at Wilford Hall in San Antonio. He opens with flirtation, calling her “the best I ever had,” and confesses to reading a “sort of a sex book,…
“Fuck the Air Force & Wilford Hall” — May 29, 1971
Send us a text This isn’t your typical Vietnam War letter. On May 29, 1971, my father—Captain Dick Allgood—wrote to my mother from Bien Hoa Air Base. She was thousands of miles away, working long hours as a military nurse at Wilford Hall in San Antonio and newly pregnant with me. And he was scared.…