July 12, 1971: Stereo, Snapshots, and So Much Love

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 that he didn’t know were being taken. It’s a gesture of love, meant to make the distance feel a little smaller.

He also shares news of a major purchase: a high-end stereo system. A Sansui 5000X receiver. An Akai 365D tape deck. Speakers already bought. A turntable still to come. It’s one of the best systems available, and he’s proud they “certainly can afford it.” It’s a gift to both of them—because they’ve always shared a love of music.

The letter closes with deep affection and a powerful reflection on the life they’ve built so far: a love that began unexpectedly, turned into a marriage, and is now growing into a family. His voice is steady, full of pride and longing, and entirely devoted to the woman he calls his precious chickadee.