Season 1
Grilled Steaks and Fruitcake — My Dad’s 27th Birthday in Vietnam
Send us a text In this letter dated May 20, 1971, my dad, Dick, writes to my mom, Sarah, from Vietnam on his 27th birthday. It’s not the birthday he hoped for, but her gifts — a photo album, a poster, cards, and her words — make their way to him across the world. He calls the album “the best gift y…
“Happy Birthday, My Love” — May 20, 1971
Send us a text In this letter from May 20, 1971, my mom, Sarah, writes to my dad, Dick, on his birthday — from halfway around the world. She’s working long hours as a surgical nurse, and on this day, she gets called in unexpectedly to scrub an emergency open-heart surgery. She’s not even on the sch…
“Sleep Warm, Baby — I Love You” — May 19, 1971
Send us a text In this tender birthday eve letter written on May 19, 1971, my dad, Dick, writes to my mom, Sarah, from Vietnam with a mix of humor, longing, and vulnerability. He’s baking in the sun, waiting for her to send his bikini swimsuit, and imagining the “sexy tan” he’ll have when they’re t…
“I Wuv You, Even on the Shitty Days” — May 19, 1971
Send us a text In this unfiltered letter from May 19, 1971, my mom, Sarah, writes to my dad, Dick, after what she calls a “shitty day” in the operating room. She’s tired, overwhelmed by military red tape, and anxiously wondering if she might be pregnant — with me. But even in the middle of it all, …
“A Suntanned Dong and a Blurry Page” — May 17, 1971
Send us a text In this May 17, 1971 letter from Vietnam, Dick Allgood writes with such raw emotion that at one point he has to pause—his tears making the page too blurry to see. He’s just missed reaching Sarah by phone again, after multiple failed attempts to call her across the world. Now he has t…
“Cried Like a Baby Writing to You” — May 18, 1971
Send us a text In this letter dated May 18, 1971, Dick Allgood writes from Vietnam with deep vulnerability, reflecting on how hard it is to watch another man—Ray Hunter—prepare to go home for good. As Dick puts it, “I sure wish it were me.” The letter begins gently—calling Sarah his “sweet wittle c…
“I Just Love the Thought of Being a Pop” — May 16, 1971
Send us a text In this letter from May 16, 1971, Dick Allgood—an HH-43 Pedro rescue pilot stationed in Vietnam—writes to his wife Sarah with pure joy after learning he’s going to be a father. He’s on alert, ready to fly into danger at a moment’s notice, but in the quiet moments he’s trying—repeated…
May 15, 1971 – “I’m Gonna Be a Daddy”
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…
May 14, 1971 Rescue Missions and Missed Calls
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…
“Boobs, Jealousy, and Monopoly Money — May 14, 1971”
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…
Tender Words and a Longing Heart: May 13, 1971
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…
May 12, 1971: Return to Biên Hòa, Letters in Hand
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…
May 11, 1971: Pedro Missions & a Mother’s Day Secret
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…
“I Think I’m Pregnant”
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…
“Long Days, Lonely Nights, and Redeye Laughs”
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 …
“Only Letter #11: May 9, 1971”
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…
“Steak Dinners & Sex Books: May 8, 1971”
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…
May 8, 1971: Faithful, Restless, and Missing Sarah
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 …
May 7, 1971: Christy Minstrels and the Club That Couldn’t Fill the Vo…
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,…
“A Mixture of Happiness and Sadness: May 7, 1971”
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…
Almost a Climax
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...
No One to Get My Wa-Wa Daddy
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...
“Wittle Chickadee” and the Jungle Ahead
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...
May 1, 1971 — Jungle School, R&R Dreams, and a Wuv Note
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...