“It agrees exactly,” the mate called back, after he had compared the measurement by the lead with the depth that was marked on the chart where we estimated we were.
“How far is it to land?”
“Eight and a half miles.”
In five more minutes, the German islands of the North Sea arose before our eyes. Now we were unable to restrain ourselves further. We tore off our caps and waved them exultantly, greeting our home soil with a roaring hurrah. Our cheer penetrated into the boat, from stern to prow, and even set Schweckerle’s heart on fire, where he was sitting alone and idle amongst the torpedo cradles.
Shortly thereafter we glided into the mouth of the river with the pennant bearing our name proudly fluttering from the masthead. This told all the ships that met us:
“Here comes U-boat 202!”
All knew by our announcement that we were returning from a long voyage and we were greeted with an enthusiastic and noisy reception. Officers and men thronged the decks, and in our inmost hearts we appreciated the great cheer:
“Three cheers for his Majesty’s U-202! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”
Thus the proud German high seas fleet received our little roughly-used boat.
At three o’clock on the afternoon of April 30 U-202 dropped her anchor in the U-boat harbor.