Lieutenant Reeves, one of the officers Allen had lectured the previous day on responsibility, saw from a window an aircraft that seemed to be sprinkling toothpicks on the roof of Hangar No. 9. In fact, a Japanese bomber had just sent the roof up in splinters. As Reeves wondered, "How can this be?" a plane sped by his window, its wingtip almost touching the ground. It appeared to be targeting the door of the Officers' Club. "My God!" thought Reeves admiringly, "the guy is awful good to be able to do that. He must be an expert. I couldn't do it. I don't know anyone who could do it." His astonishment at the pilot's skill overrode the obvious fact that the man was attacking Hickam Field. "Who can this terrific pilot be?" Reeves asked himself. Turning to some of his companions, he said, "He must be German." Then he did a mental doubletake: "What in hell is a German doing with red disks on his plane? He should have swastikas." Japan was too far away for the plane to be Japanese. At this reflection, the uncomfortable idea crossed his mind, "Germany is still farther." The incredible truth finally dawning on Reeves and his friends, they jumped into khakis, took their sidearms, hastened outside, and began to shoot at the planes. Reeves had no hope of success: "If we have to win the war with this damn thing, we'll never make it," he said in disgust.