'God wanted me now. He set me free'
HASTINGS - She stands straight, arms at sides, dark hair pulled back. She wears her Nebraska Army National Guard dress uniform - military-green jacket and skirt, size 8.
She is smiling, like always.
That framed portrait of Master Sgt. Linda Tarango-Griess sits on an easel in the front of St. Cecilia's Catholic Church here this cool, gray Saturday morning, greeting hundreds of people as they file in slowly. Her portrait is large, lifelike.
Next to the portrait, there's a wooden dressmaker's form. It wears her green jacket and skirt.
Next to the portrait and form is her flag-draped casket.
"God wanted me now. He set me free. -"
Her sister speaks for her.
Vicky Tarango-Smith stands at the podium, reciting a poem her big sister Linda Tarango-Griess loved, one that had been read at their sister Julie's funeral eight years ago. Linda had told Vicky back then that she wanted it read at her funeral someday, to provide comfort.
Linda Tarango-Griess of Sutton died in a convoy two weeks ago in Iraq, on her way back to base. She was in a Humvee with 26-year-old Jeremy Fischer, another soldier in the 267th Ordnance Company, based in Lincoln.
A roadside bomb exploded on her side of the Humvee.
Tarango-Griess was the first female Nebraska National Guard soldier killed in combat. She was the first female military person from Nebraska, from any service branch, to be killed in Iraq.
She was the last person her family and friends figured would die like this.
On the way out of the church, a little girl with dark hair stops for a moment to look at the portrait one more time. She touches the sleeve of the green jacket.
n n n
People at the corner in Hastings hold signs and flags as the caravan passes by, on its way to the Sutton Cemetery.
"Thank you, Linda and troops."
A man stands in a Mayflower moving truck, his hat to his heart. People along the route pause in their doorways, watching.
Two little blond girls wave flags as the caravan passes by in Sutton, where Linda lived with husband Doug Griess and their big, black dog, Chester, in a ranch house at the west edge of town.
There are 76 listings for "Griess" in the Sutton phone book.
Delaney Lemkau is 8. Her cousin Alexa Johnson is 7. Delaney's mom gave them two little flags, left over from the Fourth of July, and told them to stand on the corner, to "show respect for the soldier," Delaney says.
"It's sad," she says. "Because her husband is living all alone and he'll miss her."
n n n
A third person from the 267th was in that Humvee. Michael Stineman, a kid from Utica.
Vicky wants to find him, ask him about it.
Did her sister know what hit her?
"We are so proud, so proud," Vicky said Saturday, after her sister was laid to rest in the Sutton Cemetery. "But we are so sad at the same time. Mom keeps asking God, 'Why? Why do you take my babies?'"
Vicky tried to cheer her up at the funeral home Friday.
"I told Mom, 'God takes you when he has a job for you, and he must have one heck of a job that he needed a good leader for. That's why he took Linda.'"
And then Linda's husband came over to comfort Linda's mom, too.
"And she'll do a darn good job of it up there," Vicky recalled him saying.
"'But if he doesn't watch it, she'll take over the show.'"
n n n
Julie was 29. She died of stomach cancer. Linda was 33.
Vicky remembered the talk they had, while sifting through their sister's belongings.
Promise me, Vicky. If anything ever happens to me. -
Linda, don't talk to me like that. I hope it's a long time from now.
It will be a long time, Vick.
"I hated it when she called me 'Vick,'" Vicky said Saturday.
Strange thing is, she had forgotten all about that poem.
Then a few days ago, before she went to bed, she asked Linda in prayers to help her with the funeral arrangements, make sure all her wishes were met.
She woke up and the first thing that came to her mind was that conversation with Linda.
"God wanted me now. He set me free. -"
Saturday night after the funeral, Vicky and a friend were on their way to do something else they know Linda would want them to do. Have a margarita. Raise their glasses to her. Smile.
Vicky chuckled.
One of the last things Linda told Vicki was that she'd love to have a margarita. "All we have are nonalcoholic drinks over here.'"
Tarango-Griess received the Bronze Star. The Purple Heart. She was promoted posthumously to master sergeant.
Saturday at the funeral, new master sergeant patches adorned her green dress uniform.
Reach Colleen Kenney at 473-2655 or ckenney@;journalstar.com.
She is smiling, like always.
That framed portrait of Master Sgt. Linda Tarango-Griess sits on an easel in the front of St. Cecilia's Catholic Church here this cool, gray Saturday morning, greeting hundreds of people as they file in slowly. Her portrait is large, lifelike.
Next to the portrait, there's a wooden dressmaker's form. It wears her green jacket and skirt.
Next to the portrait and form is her flag-draped casket.
"God wanted me now. He set me free. -"
Her sister speaks for her.
Vicky Tarango-Smith stands at the podium, reciting a poem her big sister Linda Tarango-Griess loved, one that had been read at their sister Julie's funeral eight years ago. Linda had told Vicky back then that she wanted it read at her funeral someday, to provide comfort.
Linda Tarango-Griess of Sutton died in a convoy two weeks ago in Iraq, on her way back to base. She was in a Humvee with 26-year-old Jeremy Fischer, another soldier in the 267th Ordnance Company, based in Lincoln.
A roadside bomb exploded on her side of the Humvee.
Tarango-Griess was the first female Nebraska National Guard soldier killed in combat. She was the first female military person from Nebraska, from any service branch, to be killed in Iraq.
She was the last person her family and friends figured would die like this.
On the way out of the church, a little girl with dark hair stops for a moment to look at the portrait one more time. She touches the sleeve of the green jacket.
n n n
People at the corner in Hastings hold signs and flags as the caravan passes by, on its way to the Sutton Cemetery.
"Thank you, Linda and troops."
A man stands in a Mayflower moving truck, his hat to his heart. People along the route pause in their doorways, watching.
Two little blond girls wave flags as the caravan passes by in Sutton, where Linda lived with husband Doug Griess and their big, black dog, Chester, in a ranch house at the west edge of town.
There are 76 listings for "Griess" in the Sutton phone book.
Delaney Lemkau is 8. Her cousin Alexa Johnson is 7. Delaney's mom gave them two little flags, left over from the Fourth of July, and told them to stand on the corner, to "show respect for the soldier," Delaney says.
"It's sad," she says. "Because her husband is living all alone and he'll miss her."
n n n
A third person from the 267th was in that Humvee. Michael Stineman, a kid from Utica.
Vicky wants to find him, ask him about it.
Did her sister know what hit her?
"We are so proud, so proud," Vicky said Saturday, after her sister was laid to rest in the Sutton Cemetery. "But we are so sad at the same time. Mom keeps asking God, 'Why? Why do you take my babies?'"
Vicky tried to cheer her up at the funeral home Friday.
"I told Mom, 'God takes you when he has a job for you, and he must have one heck of a job that he needed a good leader for. That's why he took Linda.'"
And then Linda's husband came over to comfort Linda's mom, too.
"And she'll do a darn good job of it up there," Vicky recalled him saying.
"'But if he doesn't watch it, she'll take over the show.'"
n n n
Julie was 29. She died of stomach cancer. Linda was 33.
Vicky remembered the talk they had, while sifting through their sister's belongings.
Promise me, Vicky. If anything ever happens to me. -
Linda, don't talk to me like that. I hope it's a long time from now.
It will be a long time, Vick.
"I hated it when she called me 'Vick,'" Vicky said Saturday.
Strange thing is, she had forgotten all about that poem.
Then a few days ago, before she went to bed, she asked Linda in prayers to help her with the funeral arrangements, make sure all her wishes were met.
She woke up and the first thing that came to her mind was that conversation with Linda.
"God wanted me now. He set me free. -"
Saturday night after the funeral, Vicky and a friend were on their way to do something else they know Linda would want them to do. Have a margarita. Raise their glasses to her. Smile.
Vicky chuckled.
One of the last things Linda told Vicki was that she'd love to have a margarita. "All we have are nonalcoholic drinks over here.'"
Tarango-Griess received the Bronze Star. The Purple Heart. She was promoted posthumously to master sergeant.
Saturday at the funeral, new master sergeant patches adorned her green dress uniform.
Reach Colleen Kenney at 473-2655 or ckenney@;journalstar.com.
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