The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love

Send us Fan Mail 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 carry the biggest kind of love. Support the show The Allgoods: Vietnam Through the Eyes of Love is...

Send us Fan Mail 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 her husband, and a quiet determination to carve out some joy while he’s away. As their one-year ann...

Send us Fan Mail 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 society,” how little he’s being asked to do, and how strange it feels to be in a war where the missi...

Send us Fan Mail 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 the room — it’s who’s not. Jean — who recently had an affair with Mike, their married friend — is...

Send us Fan Mail 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 this with humor, tenderness, and that familiar mix of longing and loyalty. From teasing about climaxin...

Send us Fan Mail 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, affectionate, and full of quiet hope for the life they’re building—possibly even in Miami. He signs off wit...

Send us Fan Mail 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 that he bought a simple model “so I can’t fuck it up.” But beneath the humor and hi-fi plans is so...

Send us Fan Mail 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 concern as she asks him — again — to please take care of himself. Because the only thing worse than...

Send us Fan Mail 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 flying missions but emotionally steady and unwavering in his devotion. He reacts to Sarah’s updates...

Send us Fan Mail 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 picture on her pillow at night. In this letter, she asks what he wants for their anniversary and p...

Send us Fan Mail 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 “getting drunk on Grasshoppers” — a sweet, minty cocktail that, years later, would become one of Sa...

Send us Fan Mail 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 fidelity. What starts as a logistics update turns into one of the most vulnerable, explicit declarations o...

Send us Fan Mail 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 juice, and trying to pass the time — first at Jack in the Box, then watching TV with Joy, and later co...

Send us Fan Mail 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 Kona Village, maybe Waikiki — weighing the options like a man who knows his wife loves her room s...

Send us Fan Mail 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 leaves her out of breath (yes, that kind of dream), shares a wild update from Tommy Anderson, and drops...

Send us Fan Mail 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 chewed up his last recording. Not yet knowing she got it working again, he promises to make her a new...

Send us Fan Mail 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 cry days,” she writes. “Some days I actually hurt from loneliness and desire to be with you.” She tr...

Send us Fan Mail 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, but she doesn’t dwell on it. The real heart of this letter is in the little things: finally getti...

Send us Fan Mail 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 future joy. He tells her he’s tired, not feeling great, but what pulls him through — always — is writi...

Send us Fan Mail 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 everything he can to stay close, even from across the world. He writes about work being a necessary evil,...

Send us Fan Mail 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 says everything about who he was. He reminds my mom that even though they’re far apart — even though t...

Send us Fan Mail 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 involving two men and a fall from a balcony. Phone calls between Vietnam and home were rare — expensive,...

Send us Fan Mail This letter was written 54 years ago , and it’s one of the longest ones yet — eight full pages of life, longing, and love. My mom was in San Antonio, a few weeks away from visiting her friend Judy in Miami. But instead of picking up the phone, she wrote her a letter — because long-distance calls were expensive back then, and this was how people stayed close. She tells my dad that...

Send us Fan Mail In this letter, my mom writes, “I’m the luckiest girl alive.” And reading it now, I believe her. If someone loved me the way my dad loved her — I’d feel like the luckiest girl alive too. She had just received two letters and a tape from him in Vietnam. She tells him she could’ve sworn he was right there in bed talking to her. And then she laughs at her own voice on the tape she re...

Send us Fan Mail On July 12, 1971, Captain Dick Allgood writes the first of five letters to his wife, Sarah. It’s the day she’s officially discharged from the U.S. Air Force, and he fills the page with excitement, tenderness, and pride. He tells her to expect a wave of mail—each envelope packed with color photos from a recent helicopter flight in Vietnam, including a few candid shots of himself th...