Tired of Being a Good Soldier

Like a scene out of a blockbuster,

Imagine if you will:

You are an experienced soldier walking along the dry desert plain of ancient Turkey, back then just another part of the Roman Empire. It seems as though the parched ground cracks under your feet with every new step.

You are the desert oddity, properly adorned with all of the accouterments of battle: all golden helmet, armor, belt, sword and boots which bear the symbols of your homeland: the fierce lion and the majestic eagle. And unfortunately with you also is the burdensome shield you have been dragging for miles since leaving camp.

The sun's heat has turned your costume into a golden pressure cooker. The sweat pouring from your head stings your eyes yet provides the only relief of the day.

"Seems more like detriment than defense", you say to comrades, wiping your brow.

But when there is no response, you turn your head and helmet right, and then left — no one, as far as you can see, for miles.

"How long have I been traveling like this? Where is everybody?"

Then,
'Pfft!' 

It sounds like a bird crash landed into your shield but being a smart one , you know that not much flies in the desert except for vultures, and this was definitely not a vulture. You cautiously peek from behind the shield to investigate.

'Pfft!' 

The second one was aimed at your head  — " Fire? Arrows of fire", you surmise as the blaze builds off the top of your shield, your now beautiful and useful shield.
"Where about are they?” you anxiously question, considering all visible options.
Frozen and squatted into your defensive stance, you stand cautious, as not to move a single muscle.
"Just wait for it".