Spring, 1999. Mary Walsh was awake at 4:30 a.m., too excited to sleep.

She lay in bed and thought of her first 9-to-6 day tour as a detailed Lieutenant at Ladder 115 in Long Island City. She had been a covering Officer for nine long months since her promotion to Lieutenant. Now, she possibly had landed a permanent assignment at Ladder 115 because the regularly assigned Lieutenant had been injured and placed on long-term medical leave.

Mary felt she might have finally gotten her lucky break at a permanent assignment.

She took a mental inventory of her firefighting equipment: helmet, boots, a Nomex fireproof turnout coat and flashlight; also, her changes of clothing and toiletries. Did she forget anything?

Mary decided to get out of bed because her thoughts were racing, and the butterflies in her stomach were on a rampage, though she had placed all she needed in the trunk of her car the night before to ward off these first-day jitters.

Now fully dressed, she went back out to her car in the driveway. The sound of the early birds beginning to chirp gave her a reassuring sense of not being alone. She checked her equipment and returned to her apartment satisfied she had not forgotten anything.

Nine-year-old Toni-Ann, Mary's daughter, shared the two-bedroom apartment with her in Levittown, Long Island, where she had grown up. Levittown, not too far from New York City, was originally one of those first housing developments built by the Levitt Brothers in the late 1940s for returning GIs.

The small, uniform, box-like homes in the suburbs were advertised as the "American Dream" and sold for less than $5,000. Trees lined the curving streets, two to each front yard.

These days, most of the houses had been expanded and modernized over the decades to accommodate middle class families and baby boomers.

She put coffee on and prepared her favorite breakfast -- a toasted English muffin with cream cheese and marmalade. This helped calm the butterflies in her stomach.

Mary already had arranged babysitting for her two upcoming day tours and dropped Toni-Ann off the previous night with her best friend, Sheila.

Sheila, a nurse who worked rotating shifts, also had a daughter Alexandra, the same age as Toni-Ann. The girls were in fourth grade and went to Wisdom Lane Elementary School together.

Sheila and Mary worked out their schedules so they could babysit for each other. If that didn't work out, the girls' grandmothers were eager to fill in and watch their granddaughters when both moms were working.

She took her coffee to the picnic table on the small patio just outside her side door. Daylight was just arriving and she reflected on the nine years since Toni was born.

Mary's daughter was born out of wedlock when she was 19. Toni's father was the same age. Early on, it became evident Toni's dad could not cope with the heavy responsibility of fatherhood. He was out of the picture and Mary was on her own.

One thing Mary knew absolutely was that she loved her little girl and would raise Toni the best she possibly could on her own. She expected it to be tough, but she was determined to do it right. Thankfully, she lived at home with her mother, Pat, which helped things out immensely.

Still pregnant, Mary signed up for a two year Licensed Practical Nurse program offered at the Nassau BOCES technical school nearby. While attending school, Mary ran into her childhood friend, Sheila, in one of her nursing classes. Sheila had just recently given birth to her own daughter, Alexandra, also out of wedlock, and was living at home with her mother.

After Toni-Ann was born and after Mary graduated and passed her LPN test, she began working at a medical center in Hicksville. Sheila, too, became an LPN and started a job at Nassau County Medical Center.

With their renewed friendship and common bonds, Mary and Sheila shared their responsibilities as young, single moms working as nurses. Toni-Ann and Alex developed their own "best friends" relationship.

Within two years, Mary and Sheila decided to strike out on their own. They found apartments near each other and became a solid team, raising the girls and pursuing their careers. Sheila went back to school, became an RN, and was a Nurse Manager at the hospital where she worked. Mary decided to follow her father's footsteps and courageously entered into the New York City Fire Department under her dad's tutelage.

Gene Walsh, a retired Captain in the FDNY, was integral in guiding Mary as she studied hard, did well on the written test and physical, and became one of the small handful of female Firefighters in the City. In six years, securing incremental raises, Mary had become a first-grade Firefighter, which made her eligible to take the Lieutenants test.

During this time, Mary once again studied hard for the exam with her father's help. They would get together several times a month and go over the scheduled subjects. Mary enrolled in Delehanty's school of study for promotional civil service exams. When the Lieutenants test became available, she was ready. Mary knocked it dead and was on the top of the list.

Team Mary and Sheila, with their two Probies, Toni-Ann and Alexandra, had done exceptionally well for themselves.

Anticipating the 30 mile drive to Long Island City, Queens, on a Friday when traffic usually was heavy, Mary left about two hours before her tour was scheduled to begin. As she drove, she thought about her path to becoming first a Firefighter, and now a Lieutenant.

She had experienced the entry of women into the Fire Department in its insipient stages and she was well aware of all the logistical problems having to do with testing politics and the rigorous physicality of the job. As far as she was concerned, though, she was well-qualified mentally and physically, and destined to become a Fireman.

Mary and her dad were always extremely close. As a little girl growing up, she had spent many days and sometimes sleepover nights in the firehouse. A tomboy, Mary had fit in well with all the Firemen. Softball games, picnics and Christmas parties were just a few of the many functions she participated in.

Mary and her favorite Fireman, John Thomasion, had a magic show together and performed for many firehouse Christmas parties. The classic disappearing rabbit was one of their favorite acts and the children loved it.

As a young teen, Mary went to outdoor training drills with her dad's tower-ladder company and learned how to operate its' bucket high above the street. The control handle was very sensitive, much like the joysticks on video games Mary had played so often in neighborhood stores back then.

Fireman Bill Hardy, who took Mary up in the bucket, said she was a natural. It was even suggested that some of the younger Firemen, who were intimidated by the tower ladder controls, practice their fine motor skills by playing video games, too.

On the rides back and forth to the firehouse and her dad's apartment, Mary would question everything about the happenings of that day. And now, her thoughts fast-forwarded to the present, she was a Lieutenant!

She wrenched herself from the fond memories of her dad and the Fire Department and focused on the present. She wanted to be fully alert on the first day of her new assignment.

Approaching the historic firehouse now, which housed her new Ladder Company, Engine Company and the Battalion Chief and his Aide, Mary noted the character and makeup of the Italian neighborhood with its' old City flavor. Her dad had told her it was a very safe community, the "old guard" families made sure of that.

Arriving early as anticipated, Mary noticed her hands fumble as she opened the door and entered.

Yes, she had to admit, she was a little nervous.

The housewatchman jumped to his feet to greet Mary. He had known she was coming. All the Firefighters speculated on what the new female Lieutenant would be like. Mary noted his enthusiastic demeanor and how young he looked with his curly red hair and fresh scrubbed face.

"Fireman Albin is my name. Welcome to Ladder 115," he greeted her friendly, extending his hand.

Chris Albin was also a second generation Firefighter.

"Thanks, I'm Lieutenant Mary Walsh," she returned the handshake.

"The Captain said he'd be down in a moment. Want a cup of coffee"?

"Yes, I would like one. Thank you."

Fireman Albin escorted Mary toward the kitchen and as she walked behind him through the apparatus floor, she overheard two Firemen working on the opposite side of the fire truck. As she passed, she overheard a remark from one them.

"After all my 20 years on the job, we never had a female assigned here. What's this job comin' to is what I want to know"!

As Mary entered the kitchen, she pretended not to hear the comment. She knew that a lot of Firemen were bitter about females on the job. As far as she was concerned, though, the debate was over and the outcome remained the same--female firefighters were here to stay, regardless of the views of some of the disgruntled veterans. Plus, Mary always handled the bias in the past by focusing on being an exemplary Firefighter and earning the men's respect. And she was just as determined to stick to that philosophy now as an Officer.

Mary was sitting down with her mug of coffee when the Captain entered, his hand outstretched.

"Welcome aboard, Mary! I'm Captain Piegere. I worked as a Fireman with your father when he was a Lieutenant at Engine 218 in Brooklyn. You look just like him."

He smiled at Mary, pulled up a chair and sat down.

"The last time I talked to Gene was when he had that shootout with an arsonist ages ago. I got in touch with him back then and he filled me in on some of the particulars of the incident," he reflected and paused.

"But, except for a few chance meetings at wakes and promotional parties, I lost track of him. I knew from Department Orders he retired about 10 years ago.

"Back in the day, we were a really busy, close-knit unit in 218. I often wondered how life was treating Gene. How's he doing and how's your mother, Pat? We had many good times together"!

"My mom and dad divorced in the late '70s when I was 10 years old. It didn't work out, but, they've remained friends throughout the years," Mary responded politely.

"I know he owned a bar and restaurant in Long Beach," said Captain Piegere. "My wife and I have eaten there. Great place. The Inn! I remember it was in the West End of town, on Tennessee Avenue."

"Yes, he still lives there, down the block from the bar. I see Dad pretty often and he'll be very glad to know I met you."

Sensing her anxious excitement at walking into a new firehouse, just as he had when he was a new Lieutenant, he wanted to make Mary feel at ease in her new role. After all, the firehouse would be her second home.

The Captain grabbed a cup of coffee for himself and made informal introductions to some of the men assembled for their morning coffee. There was the usual easy flowing firehouse banter.

Captain Piegere then took Mary upstairs to the company office and took time to familiarize her with some routines and the riding list of the men working her tour.

"Mary, whenever you're ready to take over, let me know. I wouldn't mind leaving early. I'm driving up to the College at New Paltz today to pick up my son for the weekend."

Mary hid her excitement and tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach which began to flutter once again.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Cap. Thanks for your help," she said, briefly wondering if she appeared like a foolish schoolgirl on the first day of school.

"Have a good first day, Lou, and I'll see you on the next day tour. Your relief tonight will be Lieutenant Tom Murphy and he'll fill you in on some more of our standard routines. Good luck"! he called after her and left the office.

She appreciated first impressions and quickly summed up the Captain -- broad-shouldered, gray hair, penetrating blue eyes, soft-spoken but direct, easy-going but confident. A man she would be happy to report to.

She went down to the apparatus floor a little before 9:00 a.m. to put her gear in the cab of the ladder truck. After taking out the Captain's equipment and returning it to his assigned space, she met with the crew and introduced herself. She gave the Firemen their assignments from the riding list that the Captain prepared for her. She then walked around the aerial ladder to familiarize herself with it and see where the tiller man would sit on the top of the rear ladder.

The tiller man would steer in unison with the chauffeur driving the truck. For the most part, this type of apparatus had been phased out of the Fire Department, but a few still were needed where old streets and corners were narrow and small. Old locations, such as downtown New York and various other sections of the City, needed these units where the back end of the ladder could be flexible enough to make the short turns.

The voice alarm came to life with a message. Mary felt her heart jump as her adrenaline kicked into action.

"Box 7248, Queens Boulevard and 46th Street, a reported fire in a furniture store, a taxpayer building. All units acknowledge"!

"Ladder 115, Engine 258, Battalion 45, 10-4," the housewatchman responded.

Immediately, all her men took their riding positions on the truck and followed Engine 258 out of quarters with the 45th Battalion Chief's car following. A reported taxpayer fire triggered a mental picture for Mary. Most of the one-story buildings were built in the 1930s during the Depression and made up of cheap construction with rows of connected stores which typically ran the length of a block.

Their low building cost enabled owners and renters to pay their taxes and also make a living. These units became known as "taxpayers" and as their success and popularity grew, many were built into the '40s and '50s. The problem was that they had a three-foot cockloft below the roof and above the store ceilings. This common space ran the whole length of the building creating the potential for one huge conflagration of flames. In other words, the block-long structures went up like tinderboxes if not swiftly extinguished.

All members knew the routine attack plan for taxpayer fires. Carrying it out was another story. Specifically, the problems -- visual late discovery of the fire in the stores during the night, the common cockloft and the direction of the wind -- could cause the fire to take off with amazing speed.

Pulling ceilings, opening roofs in adjoining stores, keeping hose-lines available and getting ahead of the fast-traveling fire, was a precise and very physically demanding operation. If the Firemen could stop the fire in the original store, pull adjoining ceilings and open those roofs, they could stop the spread. If not, the fire would develop into a spectacular blaze.

Approaching Queens Boulevard, the fire crew saw large plumes of smoke in the sky. Mary was charged up but remembered something her dad often told her:

"When going to a fire, realize that the excitement will cause an adrenaline rush, speeding up your thoughts and actions. Slow everything down to keep your metabolism normal. This will help in your decision-making, plus with normal breathing, your air mask will last much longer."

Mary reported to the Chief of Battalion 45 for orders.

"Lou, take exposure #2, the shop to the left of the furniture store on fire. The wind seems to be blowing in that direction, so pull the ceilings and open the roof to try and cut it off," he responded.

Mary and her forcible entry team entered exposure #2. They were followed by Engine 258, carrying a charged hose-line. Her roof and outside vent man, assisted by the chauffeur, placed a portable ladder to the one-story roof. They climbed to the roof with their gas-powered saw, an axe and a hook.

Knowing the fire was in the rear, they opened a 10 by 10 foot hole over where they expected the fire to travel, to vent the smoke and heat to the outside. Inside the store, as Mary and her men were groping through smoke and heat to get to the rear, they heard the sounds of the saw opening the roof.

When the roof was opened up, conditions immediately got better as visibility improved and heat dissipated. Both companies quickly advanced to the rear and feverishly pulled the ceilings down to expose the intense cockloft fire. The Firemen of Engine 258 quickly opened their hose-line with a strong, penetrating stream and extinguished all visible fire.