6.2

Aboard the HMHS Devanha, built in 1905 as a cargo liner and fitted with a reasonable amount of passenger comforts, virtually all excess had been removed or converted to care for the wounded. While fragments of the ships former luxuries remained – hand carved café nooks re-fittted into single or double patient cots; spacious library shelving now holding carefully folded sheets, towels and bandages; and the bulk of the third floor dining room, once opulent and uncrowded, now filled with head-to-toe beds, leaving only a space between each row fit for one person to squeeze through. Countless seas of white, now fresh and pristine, awaiting endless numbers of broken and shattered men. The only contrast to this scene was a stunning, polished grand piano resting on an elevated platform in the rear of the hall. It wasn't obvious if this had been left in place because it was bolted to the floor or it was too cumbersome to remove; but the reason was pointless, as the instrument was now surrounded and stacked with starched linens and massed lifebelts.

Almost immediately after Diana had signed a few pieces of paper; all of which, and more, had been given to her in duplicate; another soldier arrived to escort her to her room.

"Yer, lucky, Miss, this ones' a nice outside cabin with a porthole. Sun's peering in now but as soon as it gets past noon should be snug as a bug in here. There's only seven other nurses aboard, so you'll be havin this all to yourself, too. At least on the way to Egypt, that is. All of us might be sharin' beds on the way back!"

Having never before been in the company of men, Diana did not recognize flirting – or inappropriate suggestions – but from her studies of Cleos Treatises, she was aware men frequently offer to 'share a bed' only when they have things in mind other than rest.

"I'm certain my room will be fine. And if you need a place to sleep, I believe there are many available locations on deck."

"Of course, Miss. Didn' mean anythin' by it. All nurses are asked to report to Matron as soon as they've unpacked and got things settled. Is there anythin' else you'll be needin'?"

"No, thank you. You've been quite helpful. Where is the room of this 'Matron'?"

"Two decks up, cabin 414. Stairs' at the end of the passageway. Have to pass 'round the kitchen, and hallway 'E' will take you to the fancy dinin' room – main hospital ward. Past that, 'C' hallway up the stairs to get to the officers' cabins. When they built this ship they was design' it for elegant dinners, not haulin' wounded. Good day, Miss."

Themyscira does not have a standing Navy. Amazons, as a rule, do not build, sail, nor even feel comfortable on ships other than the small boats devoted to fishing or study of sea-life. In each story told, the Amazons relied upon their neighbors on Cyprus, for generations experienced sea-faring peoples, for transportation whenever it became necessary for the Amazonian army to travel far beyond their home. So for Diana, not only was navigating the multiple hallways, passages, ladders and confusing maze of compartments challenging; she was also feeling a bit unsteady due to the constant but gentle rocking of the floor beneath her feet. Unless she regained her composure quickly, she did not want to consider how she would feel when the ship actually began to sail. But the soldier; actually not much older than a youth; had provided excellent direction and soon Diana was knocking on door 414.

"Enter."

'Matron' was a formidable-looking woman; wearing a neatly-pressed grey dress with white collar and large, almost sail-like starched white cap; sitting behind a studiously-organized desk; within a functionally-furnished room. Other than the dark-wood desk, the only furnishings Diana noticed were a small wardrobe; crisply-made bed; drawered cabinet; and a small table with two side chairs. Just two framed images on the walls – one, a document holding many signatures and the image of a large, red cross; and the other, a painting of a solemn looking bearded man; could be considered any type of decoration.

"Hello,...Matron? I am Diana Prince, the Colonel at the entry told me..."

"Doctor Hawkins?! Choosing my nurses for me, again? He and I will be havin' a talk about that. But you are here now and the Doctor is no fool so I will have to assume if you pass his standards, you must know your business. We sail tomorrow morning. Any 'goodbyes' or personal business you need to complete no later than five o'clock this afternoon. Dinner's at seven-thirty on the mark and I expect all my nurses to be seated not only on our first night, but every night."

"I have nothing personal I need to attend to."

"Very good. You will be workin' with seven other ladies, all but one have completed multiple cruises; the last is an experienced nurse but new to the sea. You served on one of His Majesties ships before? You're looking a little off-kilter."

"No, I've generally remained on land. But I do know how to swim."

"Lets hope it doesn't come to that. You and Miss Brieson will have to find your sea legs. Hopefully before we take on wounded. There are five doctors aboard: You've met Colonel Hawkins, he's the officer in command. We also have two Majors; one's a whisk at amputations, I've been told. One Captain; and a Subaltern, just completed University so this is chiefly a training voyage for him. Of course the dressers and aides. Just as in any hospital, the doctors give the orders and we provide the care. You'll meet everyone within the next day or so. I'm Matron Fainín. I don't stand by titles and ceremony for you VAD girls, but the Army officers will expect their honoraries. Here's a copy of the ship rules; my rules; and your schedule. Just do as you're told, provide the best care you are able, behave as a young lady and a representative of the Medical Profession and the Crown, and we'll get along famously."

"Then...you are the...boss?"

"I'm the MATRON, girl."

"You can wear your outdoor uniform on the trip out, but once we pick up wounded I expect all my Nurses to dress only in their whites and blues. Always kept pressed and spit-spot. Helps the mens morale, you know, to see that."

Diana was familiar with a 'uniform'; it is what Charlie wore. But in green and brown, not white and blue. And she had no uniform in any color. She certainly did not possess a spitspot.

"The only clothing I have is what I wear. The war..."

"You will be makin' yourself a handful. Go down to ships stores and pick up your kit. Get what you need, we've enough. I don't want to hear any Olagonin' later."

"Yes, thank you."

At first Diana was concerned that she did not have the money for the clothing and 'kit' the ships' store had to offer. Each time she and Etta had gone shopping in London, Etta encouraged her to select additional outfits, that 'Steve would have wanted you to have the things you need, dear'; but Diana saw neither the need, nor the use, of anything other than the functional grey skirt, jacket, and black hat she had been wearing. When necessary, she washed her white cotton blouse; and of course, she was never without her armour so both the cost, and the unreasonableness of expecting a woman to bear these 'fashions' that appeared to be designed only for appearance with little care to comfort or utility was beyond Diana's comprehension. How she would pay for a uniform, along with the white and blue clothing, she didn't know. However, when reaching the store (which was not anything like the stores in London; but more like a small window opening into a storage closet, manned by a ships crewman), Diana only mentioned her name and that the Matron had sent her, before the sailor ambled off among the array of shelves, crates and boxes, returning with an armload of dresses, aprons, shirts, stockings, jackets, undergarments and other pieces she didn't recognize; the mound topped with a blue, wide-brimmed hat little different from what she was wearing. The sailor dropped the stack on the counter, and Diana didn't know how, or why, she could manage to wear all these items.

"I'm sayin' large, 'bout a 10. That right?"

As Etta had selected everything Diana had tried on, she didn't know under what number she should be identified.

"Ah yes, that's correct."

"Do ya' need shoes? What's issued isn't the best quality and you'll be standin' on your feet all day. If you have your own, 'tis best to wear those."

"I have the boots I'm wearing."

The sailor leaned out of his window to inspect Diana's footwear.

"Hmm. Brown. Black is the standard. Try to keep Matron from noticin' your feet and you should be fine. If you need a pair come see me. We got one outdoor uniform: Norfolk suit, dark blue, leather belt, one blue felt hat. One Ulster, dark blue; one cape, Red Cross. One raincoat. One Trench, blue. Two dresses, grey, physical training. Six uniform dresses, blue. Two shirtwaists, white. One blue flannel waist. Eight collars, soft. Six caps. Six pair brassards. Six aprons. Six pair stockings, black. Six sets ladies undergarments. One pair shoes, canvas physical training. One pair tan gloves. One set insignia, medical and VAD Kings Service. Sign here."

This is the most clothing Diana had possessed in her entire life. This day had also been the most times she had inscribed her name on any document, particularly strange as each time she had to remember to add 'Prince' following the usual, simple 'Diana' she had been taught to write by her tutors.

"I don't know how I will pay you for these, but perhaps if I promise to send you a portion at a time..."

"Oh, on the razz, are we? Let's just say I'm lendin' these to you, and when you're finished with 'em you just bring 'em back, even-steven."

"Thank you, you are a very good man."

In response to a recent comment, yes, this is primarily Diana's story and we will now be following her journey. And quite the journey it is. However the paths of Diana and Steve intertwine (as well as intersecting with those of other characters), and we must understand their stories separately before we see them brought together. Unless, of course, the reader does not wish to ultimately see Diana and Steve together...