...of amazement

Klimov had no fear of Germans; he had an unshakeable confidence in his own strength, his own miraculous ability to pull a trigger, throw a grenade, strike a blow with a knife or a rifle-butt a second earlier than his opponent. Now, though, he didn't know what to do. He was amazed at the thought that, blinded and deafened as he was, he had been comforted by the presence of this German, had mistaken his hand for Polyakov's. Klimov and the German looked at one another. Each had been crushed by the same terrible force, and each was equally helpless to struggle against it.

They looked at one another in silence, two inhabitants of war. The perfect, faultless, automatic reflex they both possessed - the instinct to kill - failed to function.

Polyakov, a little further away, was also gazing at the stubble-covered face of the German. He didn't say anything either - though he usually found it difficult to keep his mouth shut.

Life was terrible. It was as though they could understand, as though they could read one another's eyes, that the power which had ground them into the mud would continue - even after the war - to oppress both conquered and conquerors.

As though coming to an unspoken agreement, they began to climb to the surface, all three of them easy targets, all three of them quite sure they were safe.

[Life and Fate, Grossman, V.]