The Iron

Twenty-five three things sergeant waters. How bad if he hates? Yeah? Yeah? What floor is it on? Did you see any changes to up to the ninth floor? You are in the muster room at the twenty-first precinct, the nerve center.

A call is coming through. You will follow the action taken pursuant to that call from this minute until the final report is written in the one twenty-four room at the twenty-first precinct. All right, the officers will be right over there.

Now, don't worry about calling the ambulance. That's all taken care of. OK. Thanks. The 21st Precinct is just lined on a map of the city of New York. Most of the 173,000 people wedged into the 9th temps of the square mile between Fifth Avenue and the East River wouldn't know if you asked them that they lived or worked in the 21st.

But they know it or not, the security of their homes, their persons and their property is the job of the men of the 21st Precinct. The twenty-first one hundred and sixty patrolman, eleven sergeants, and four lieutenants of who mind the boss. My name is Connelly, Frank Connelly. I'm Captain in command of the twenty-first.

I was working my day tour, eight a.m. to six p.m. The day was hot and muggy and fortunately things were quiet in the precinct. I had been on patrol of the precinct in sector time number five.

Shortly before ten a.m., a call came over the radio concerning an injured woman, ambulance responding, at 781 East 68th Street. We were near the scene and I told Potomac Fire to make the run. Sector Con number three and the Sergeant's car had both arrived before us.