Episodes
“Only 45 Days: A Letter, a Call, and a Mother-in-Law
Send us a text On July 24, 1971, Sarah Allgood writes to her husband Dick after hearing his voice over the phone — a rare gift while he’s serving in Vietnam. She’s emotional but trying to stay strong, counting down the final 45 days until they’re together again. In her letter, she shares updates on…
July 24, 1971: Boy, Did I Get in Deep
Send us a text On July 24, 1971, Dick Allgood writes to his wife Sarah after spending his day off handling an assignment from his superiors. A local Vietnamese woman who worked in the hooch was flagged by the police for having an expired ID pass, and Dick was ordered to escort her through the renew…
“Red, White & Sherbet: July 23, 1971”
Send us a text In this letter from July 23, 1971, Sarah writes from San Antonio with updates on baby shopping, Dairy Queen cravings, and an orange sherbet cocktail recipe worth stealing. But under all the activity, there’s a deeper undercurrent of tension with her mother-in-law, loneliness without …
July 23, 1971: Wet Dreams, Welfare, and Those Damn Nancys
Send us a text This is the second letter my father wrote to my mother on July 23, 1971 — from Da Nang, Vietnam. He wasn’t dodging bullets or flying missions. He was stuck on a quiet base, doing almost nothing — and he knew it. In this letter, he talks about how the Air Force feels like a “welfare s…
July 23, 1971: Dreamed of You Twice
Send us a text It’s just after 7 a.m. in Vietnam when Dick writes this note — a quick hello to Sarah before the day begins. He’s full from breakfast, still warm from dreams of her, and completely wrapped up in longing. It’s short, sweet, and deeply personal — proof that even the smallest letter can…
Cheater, Cheater, Kebab Eater — July 22, 1971
Send us a text July 22, 1971. Sarah spends the evening with friends at Joe and Jean Sebato’s — enjoying wine, cherries jubilee, and a warm circle of people. But something’s missing. Her husband. The baby’s father. The other half of her world. What makes this letter so compelling isn’t just who’s in…
July 22, 1971: A Stereo Confession, a Miami Hello, and One Loyal Husb…
Send us a text In this letter from July 22, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his wife, Sarah, with a confession: he didn’t wait to buy the record player like he said he would—he found a deal too good to pass up. Now their stereo system is complete, and he’s hoping she’s not upset. He shares thi…
July 21, 1971: A Short Love Note to Miami
Send us a text In this brief second letter from July 21, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood sends a tender note addressed to Miami—though his wife Sarah hasn’t even left Texas yet. He’s thinking ahead, making sure a love letter will be waiting for her when she arrives later that month. It’s short, affectio…
July 21, 1971: Stereo Dreams, Tape Deck Love, and One Proud Husband
Send us a text In this July 21, 1971 special delivery letter from Vietnam, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his wife, Sarah, with two things on his mind: their future stereo system—and how much he adores her. He describes taping hours of music, explains the mechanics of their new tape deck, and jokes…
July 20, 1971: A Bikini, a Quarter, and 49 Days to Go
Send us a text Sarah Allgood is counting down the days until she boards a plane for Miami — and just 49 more until R&R in Hawaii. In today’s letter, she shares her travel plans, reassures Dick about her pregnancy, and responds to his vivid descriptions of longing. There’s humor, heat, and deep …
July 20, 1971: I Groove So Good to You
Send us a text It’s July 20, 1971, and Captain Dick Allgood is writing from Vietnam to his wife Sarah in San Antonio. With just seven days to go before her Miami trip — and less than two months until their R&R reunion — both are counting the days. In this letter, Dick is physically tired from f…
July 19, 1971: Grasshoppers and Other Sweet Things
Send us a text Captain Dick Allgood writes to Sarah from Vietnam on July 19, 1971, recounting a quiet day filled with small rituals — rereading her letters, walking to the BX, grabbing a hamburger and baked beans, and watching the movie Flap, starring Anthony Quinn. The film includes a line about “…
July 19, 1971: One Outfit, One Lover, One Life
Send us a text Sarah Allgood writes to her husband, Captain Dick Allgood, on July 19, 1971, with her usual mix of sharp wit, practical planning, and pure devotion. She’s booking flights, paying bills, teasing him about math, and dreaming of his kisses — all while tanning by the pool and keeping his…
July 18, 1971: A Virgin for You, Forever
Send us a text In today’s letter from July 18, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his pregnant wife, Sarah, from alert duty in Vietnam. He reflects on their R&R options in Hawaii, the women in Sarah’s orbit — including friends recovering from illness and heartache — and his unwavering fidelit…
July 18, 1971: Burgers, Banana Splits, and Getting Through Another Su…
Send us a text This letter was written on July 18, 1971 — a quiet Sunday in San Antonio, and just a week before my mom would head to Miami to spend a month with her best friend Judy. She’s tired, not sleeping well, and feeling the heat. She writes about waking up “seepy,” eating toast and apple jui…
July 17, 1971: Big Beds, R&R Dreams, and the Wittle Chickadee Who Kee…
Send us a text In this sweet and steady letter from July 17, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes to his pregnant wife, Sarah, from Vietnam — completely certain of the life they’ve built together. “You and me,” he writes, “we have found what they look for.” He’s thinking ahead to their R&R — maybe…
July 17, 1971: Newlyweds by the Pool, French Dreams, and a Gossip Con…
Send us a text This letter from my mom, Sarah Allgood, was written on a Saturday in July 1971. She’s pregnant, missing my dad, and doing her best to make it through another weekend alone in San Antonio—while newlyweds lounge by the pool just outside her window. She tells him about a dream that leav…
July 16, 1971 – Sleepy Warm and Counting the Days
Send us a text In this letter from July 16, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes from Vietnam with his usual mix of steady affection and quiet urgency. He reassures Sarah that he’s still writing every single day — even if the mail isn’t reaching her — and responds to her news that the tape machine che…
July 16, 1971 – “Wittle Girl Weekend” and a Bell System Strike
Send us a text In this tender letter from July 16, 1971, Sarah is feeling raw, restless, and deeply in need of connection. After a day of sunshine and swimming with friends, she comes home to six letters from Vietnam — and a wave of emotion she can’t quite outrun. “Today was one of those ache and c…
July 15, 1971: Writing Through the Distance, Loving Through the Fog
Send us a text This letter from July 15, 1971 was written by my dad, Captain Dick Allgood, from Vietnam to my mom, Sarah, back home in San Antonio. It’s soft, steady, and full of love — the kind of love that makes plans, sends letters ahead to new addresses, and counts quarters in “the pot” for fut…
July 15, 1971: Six I Love You’s and a Future in Miami
Send us a text This is the second letter Dick Allgood wrote to Sarah on July 15, 1971 — and in it, he tells her “I love you” six times. It’s heartfelt, direct, and full of plans for the future. He’s thinking ahead to their upcoming move to Miami, coordinating where to send letters, and doing everyt…
Untitled Episode July 15, 1971: The Club Card, the Gossip, and the Co…
Send us a text In this letter from July 15, 1971, my mom is doing what she did best — keeping it all together. She writes to my dad about a busy day filled with errands, phone calls, time with friends, and dinner at the Officer’s Club. There’s some tension in the background between people they knew…
July 13, 1971: The Best Kind of Love
Send us a text In this short but powerful letter, my dad writes from Vietnam about what truly matters in life — and what doesn’t. “My work and your thoughts on it will make our lives and our happiness,” he writes. “Money is not the key. Love and happiness is the only key of our love.” That line say…
July 14, 1971: A Full Day, a Quiet Fear, and a Balcony Fall
Send us a text On July 14, 1971, Sarah Allgood writes to her husband Dick from San Antonio, sharing a full day in vivid, personal detail — from a pregnancy scare and cravings to her upcoming trip to Miami, a phone call from her old hospital, and even a disturbing late-night incident upstairs involv…