Episodes

Send us a text From April through December 1971, Sarah and Dick Allgood wrote to each other every single day while separated by war and distance. This episode closes out the entire year — gathering the people, routines, friendships, exhaustion, humor, and devotion that carried them through eight months apart. Before stepping into 1972, this is the story of how they lived, loved, and held each other — one letter at a time. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a...

Send us a text On December 30, 1971, three letters move back and forth across the world — two from Dick in Vietnam, one from Sarah in San Antonio. It’s a day full of recalibration. Dick writes once early, once later, quietly shifting his countdown home. Sarah, drunk and honest, opens her door to friends to keep depression and anxiety at bay. Together, these letters capture a marriage doing what it has always done best: adjusting to each other in real time, even from opposite sides of the war....

Send us a text On December 29, 1971, Sarah and Dick write to each other from opposite sides of the world during one of the heaviest moments of the deployment. Sarah is late in pregnancy, physically miserable, deeply depressed, and frightened by a major bombing escalation now underway through Seventh Air Force command — the command her husband works under. Dick has just been moved from Bien Hoa to Saigon, exhausted from the move, unsettled, but focused on the official countdown home. These let...

Send us a text On December 28, 1971, the waiting continues. Sarah is exhausted, uncomfortable, frightened, and deeply ready for labor to begin. Dick writes from Vietnam after a quiet day, counting the hours without news and aching to call home. Together, these letters hold the tension of late pregnancy, long-distance fear, and the steady reassurance of love when nothing feels certain. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based on rea...

Send us a text On December 27, 1971, both Sarah and Dick are suspended in the same unbearable wait. Sarah is deeply pregnant, exhausted, and riding another false alarm. Dick is frustrated, delayed, and fed up with the chaos surrounding him in Vietnam. Across the world, they imagine the same moment — the birth of their baby — while holding each other steady through love, humor, and devotion Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is a personal podcast project based o...

Send us a text On December 26, 1971 — the day after Christmas — the outside world presses in. In the news, there’s talk of hijackings, unrest, and even a surreal story circulating about a plot to steal the Statue of Liberty. At the same time, Dick has recently been moved from Bien Hoa into Saigon — a place he has already told Sarah feels safer, but also busier, louder, and far more connected to the world around it. These two letters capture a subtle but unmistakable shift. Nothing has gone ...

Send us a text On Christmas Day, December 25, 1971, Sarah and Dick spend the holiday apart — Dick on alert in Vietnam, Sarah surrounded by friends and family in San Antonio, very pregnant and aching for her husband. Dick writes with quiet sadness and restraint, wishing only for the next 88 days to pass. Sarah writes with honesty, humor, exhaustion, and heartbreak, moving through Christmas rituals, gifts, dinners, and toasts — all while holding space for the absence of the man she loves. Toget...

Send us a text On Christmas Eve, December 24, 1971, Sarah and Dick spend the holiday on opposite sides of the world — alone, emotional, and deeply connected through letters. Dick writes from Vietnam after receiving a “jackpot” of love letters, counting down the days to home and imagining a future that stretches decades ahead. Sarah writes from San Antonio, heartbroken and overwhelmed, moving through Christmas Eve visits, phone calls, and waves of grief as she faces the holiday without her hus...

Send us a text On Thursday, December 23, 1971, anxiety and anticipation peak on both sides of the world. Dick writes from Bien Hoa, convinced Sarah may already be in labor, bouncing off the walls with nerves and longing, clinging to future plans and a real estate manual sent by Bill Cobbs. Sarah writes from San Antonio after a discouraging doctor’s appointment — contractions stopped, no progress, and the instruction to be patient for possibly weeks more — while still filling her days with fri...

Send us a text On Wednesday, December 22, 1971, Sarah and Dick write from opposite sides of the world as Christmas approaches and the weight of waiting deepens. Dick writes from Bien Hoa, quieter and more tired now, passing time, counting days, and imagining the family waiting on the other side of war. Sarah writes from San Antonio, deeply pregnant, emotional, funny, and surrounded by friends, phone calls, errands, and holiday rituals. Between the lines, both letters carry an unspoken awarene...

Send us a text On Tuesday, December 21, 1971, Sarah and Dick write from opposite sides of the world — both restless, deeply in love, and looking ahead to the same future. Sarah, deep into pregnancy in San Antonio, is surrounded by friends, watching soaps, attending small Christmas gatherings, and feeling time move unevenly as she waits for the months ahead to pass. Dick writes from Bien Hoa, newly sent out on alert again, missing his wife, nervous about becoming a father, and imagining the lo...

Send us a text On Monday, December 20, 1971, Sarah and Dick Allgood write three letters between them from opposite sides of the world. Sarah writes from San Antonio, deeply pregnant, exhausted, surrounded by friends and Christmas cards, and growing more physically uncomfortable by the day. Dick writes twice from Vietnam — once early in the morning after getting off alert, and again later that night — admitting plainly how nervous he is about becoming a father while being so far away. With no ...

Send us a text On December 19, 1971, Sarah and Dick Allgood write from opposite sides of the world as Sarah approaches delivery. Sarah describes false labor, visible kicks from their baby, and the loneliness of Sundays without her husband. Dick writes from Vietnam about love with uncommon clarity — and for the first time admits how nervous he is that he isn’t there. Later that same night, Sarah writes again at 2:30 a.m., unable to sleep, naming her fears, anxiety, and the comfort she finds si...

Send us a text On December 18, 1971, two letters cross the world in opposite directions. Dick writes from Saigon after completing his first day of alert duty at Tan Son Nhut Air Base — describing central air conditioning, movie theaters, and a dysfunctional command structure. Sarah writes from San Antonio, eight months pregnant and in early labor, counting contractions, counting dollars, and listing — point by point — exactly why she loves her husband. Together, these letters complicate the f...

Send us a text On December 17, 1971, only one letter arrives. With Dick now stationed at Tan Son Nhut Air Base in Saigon, the mail is unsettled once again — and this time, there is no letter from him at all. Sarah’s letter carries the full weight of that silence. Writing from San Antonio, she responds to lingering doubts, a doctor’s appointment that changes everything, and the reality of a pregnancy entering its final stretch. The baby has dropped. The head is locked in place. Christmas is da...

Send us a text On December 16, 1971, both Sarah and Dick write shorter letters — not because there is less to say, but because what matters most is already known. Dick writes from Vietnam after a day on alert, asking Sarah if she can feel the love radiating between them, reminding her that together — with their little one — they will have the world by the tail. In San Antonio, Sarah writes from a quiet day surrounded by care, rest, and tenderness, echoing that same certainty: this separation ...

Send us a text On December 15, 1971, Sarah writes from San Antonio — very pregnant, uncomfortable, sentimental, and deeply loved. This letter isn’t just about waiting for a baby or missing her husband. It’s about community. Friends stopping by. Meals shared. Errands run together. Love sent across the world. While Dick is still in Vietnam, Sarah is not alone — she’s surrounded by people who care for her, watch out for her, laugh with her, and hold space while she waits. This episode is a remin...

Send us a text On December 14, 1971, both Sarah and Dick are standing on the edge of something — though neither quite knows what the next day will bring. In Vietnam, Dick spends the day out-processing, turning in equipment, and packing up his hooch as his detachment closes down. He’s exhausted, practical, and already looking ahead to the only packing that really matters — coming home. In San Antonio, Sarah wakes with early labor symptoms and believes for a moment that the baby might arrive. W...

Send us a text On December 13th, 1971, Sarah is deep into late pregnancy. She sprains her ankle getting out of the car, finishes her Christmas shopping, and settles in for the evening with help from friends as she prepares for the home stretch before giving birth. Meanwhile, Dick is on alert duty at Biên Hòa, where the crash phone rings nonstop. With his move to Tân Sơn Nhứt Air Base just days away, he writes about the final preparations and the strain of leaving a place he’s gotten used to...

Send us a text On Sarah’s 32nd birthday, she wakes to roses, a long-awaited phone call from Vietnam, and the familiar circle of friends who keep her steady as she waits for her baby to arrive. Across the world, Dick writes from a lonely room in Vietnam as his unit prepares to move from Biên Hòa to Tân Sơn Nhứt — a shift layered with tension he never lets spill onto the page. These two letters, written on the same day, reveal the everyday rhythm of a long-distance marriage in wartime: small ...

Send us a text On December 11th, 1971 — the night before Sarah’s 32nd birthday — she receives a bouquet of perfect rosebuds sent from Vietnam while Dick is in the middle of relocating to a new air base. In this warm, witty, deeply human letter, Sarah fights off a cold, tends to her late-pregnancy routines, prepares her hospital bag, and surrounds herself with the flowers she loves. Her voice is tender and funny, layered with longing and hope, and flavored with the quiet courage of a woman doi...

Send us a text On December 10, 1971, Sarah and Dick write from opposite sides of the world as everything begins to feel imminent. Sarah comes home from the doctor with news that labor may come sooner than expected. Dick responds with one of the longest and most declarative letters of the war — rooted in love, fidelity, and certainty. Together, these letters show a marriage grounded in character, even under the strain of distance, war, and waiting. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam T...

Send us a text On December 9, 1971, Sarah writes from San Antonio on a cold, rainy Thursday — eight months pregnant, alone, watching quiz shows, dealing with a broken television, and passing the time with friends and cookies. It’s an ordinary day made extraordinary by love. This letter moves between morning and night, loneliness and laughter, discomfort and devotion — a quiet reminder of how marriage survives war in the smallest moments. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the...

Send us a text On December 8, 1971, the day after Sarah opens up about sleepless nights and crowded worries, the tone shifts. She’s still tired, still lonely — but steadier. Humor returns. Desire is loud again. Christmas preparations continue. Dick writes from Vietnam with his own quiet routine, thinking about gifts, the mail, and the life they’re building toward. These letters show how love doesn’t eliminate worry — it carries it, eases it, and makes room for laughter again. Support the show...