My father-in-law's war was fought in Mediterranean with the 8th Army, known as the 'Desert Rats'. He was at el Alamein in North Africa, and at Monte Cassino in Italy.
Here's a poem by a cavalryman of the Royal Tank Regiment of the 8th Army. Not much about ducking the bullets, but strong on other drawbacks to a life in arms.

MEDITERRANEAN SONG
(M. Rawlinson)

There's some who say the Medi-
Terranean is heady;
While others who have stayed there
Are very much afraid there's
A lot more to be said
About the highly vaunted Med.

For instance there's malaria
In the Mare Nostrum area;
and pox in many a guise
Small and cow and otherwise
Can easily be caught
Doing things you didn't ought.

Then there's flies and fleas and
Lice and crabs that tease and
Make themselves a pest
Always hanging round the test-
Icles playing hide and seek
In the ballroom, so to speak.

And many more afflictions
That cause a lot of restrictions;
The brothers 'dyer' and 'gonner'
Are active winter and summer.
And dysentery's a damned in-
Convenience notwithstanding.

So I think that you'll agree,
That those who say the sea
Is nearly always blue,
(which is nearly always true)
Are deliberately misleading
The folks who judge by reading
That the Med for sure and certain
Is the place to do some flirting.
But you and I know better
And you can bet an old French letter-
Box, that when the war is over
I'll count myself in clover
As long as I've a bed
That is nowhere near the Med.