observed
the wrath of the elements. It seemed as if we were in a land of
mountains which the U-boat had to climb, only to be suddenly hurled down
again. I could see only so far as the next ridge, which always seemed
to be even higher than the last, and if there had been any chance of
seeing more, it would have been impossible in the flying foam and spray.
The rain whipped the water violently and darkened the sky so that it was
like dusk. The boat worked itself laboriously through the heavy sea. The
joints cracked and trembled when the boat slid down from the peak of a
wave to be buried in the deep trough.

We had to cling to some oil-soaked object in order not to be tossed
about. Through the strain put on the body by the terrible rolling of the
boat, by the damp, vaporous air, and by lack of sleep and food, we
finally became exhausted, but at this time we had no desire to eat. The
storm continued for three days and nights without abating. Then the sky
cleared, the wind dropped, and the sea became calmer. At noon of the
third day the sun broke through the clouds for the first time. Shortly
before this, we had dared open the conning tower hatch and greeted the
rays of the sun, although we had to pay for this pleasure with a cold
bath.

We had been drifting about for three days without knowing our location.
No wonder we greeted our guide with great joy, and quickly produced the
sextant to find out where we were. Our calculations showed that, during
the entire time, we had been circling around in one spot and had not
gotten one mile nearer our port. But what did that matter? The storm was
abating, the sea was calming down, and our splendid, faithful boat had
stood the test once more, and, in spite of all storms, had survived.

We reached the North Sea the next afternoon and could change our course
to the south with happy hearts. Every meter, every mile, every hour
brought us nearer home. No one who has not, himself, experienced this
home-coming can understand the joy that fills a U-boat sailor's heart
when, after a successful voyage, he sees the coast of his fatherland; or
when he turns the leaves of his log and, astonished, reads the scrawled
lines which tell fairy tales of the dangers and joys and asks himself:

"Have you really gone through all that?"

Who can understand the joy of a commander's heart when, sitting by his
narrow writing table, he is carefully working out his report to his
superiors? "Have sunk X st