To the editor:

I spent 26 years in the fire service. I was one of the first female firefighters in our state, the first to graduate from the state training academy and, years later, became the first and only female full-time instructional staff member. I have trained firefighters all over our state and as well as other parts of the country as a National Fire Academy and International Association of Firefighters instructor.

During my career I developed interdisciplinary state curriculum and managed a training program (with an annual budget of over $2.5 million), in which thousands of responders have been trained. I served as technical adviser within our state, serving on numerous state committees and responded to events as a state representative.

Over the years, I have been rumored to have slept with more men than there are in our community, turned gay and hate men, beat my children and so on. Television is dull compared to rumors in the fire service.

But a few years after 9/11, although my work received national recognition and I was cited for having the "best practices" of our organization by my supervisor in a public meeting, the program I managed for over 15 years was removed from my authority. You see, my male counterparts were unable to match my caliber of work, and my performance threatened them. Although they could not find fault with me professionally, their tactics of attacking me with rumors, untruths, threats, name calling and unprofessional conduct finally resulted in me being removed from my supervisory position. I was forced to continue to do work for the program that I no longer managed, replaced with a 27-year-old male with no certification or background, forced to vacate my office of eight years and stripped of my faculty privileges.

If I were a man, my assertive behavior and "never give up" attitude would have been regarded as leadership skills. As a woman, they were seen as threatening and presumptuous.

Versions of this story are out there throughout the fire service. Although women may have rank and seniority, they are forced into a corner, left to fend for themselves -- dodging the bullets, dirty tricks, waiting to figure out what their peers will attempt to do next, so you can try to defuse their efforts.

My heart goes out to women who have the courage to endure what I did. My time is over now. I loved being a firefighter, the feeling you got while making a good interior attack or saving a life.

But if you want to know what keeps women small in numbers, it is that we are isolated in a world that does not have mentors or defenders. Isolation can be a heavy weapon that is invisible, but always known.

-- Nancy N. Tilton, Champaign, Ill.