At first, the room is quiet.

A few service members sit slouched in their chairs, eyes fixed on the floor. The weight of deployment, separation from family, medication side effects, and exhaustion lingers in the air. Then a guitar is passed across the circle.

Fingers hesitate. A string buzzes too loudly. Someone laughs.

And just like that, the room changes.

Over the past four years, Daniel, “Dan-o” McShane with the American Red Cross has sought to help hospital patients at the Brian D. Algood Army Community Hospital (BDAACH) with hands on music therapy.

Inside the behavioral health clinic at BDAACH on Camp Humphreys, 60-miles southeast of Seoul healing sometimes begins not with a clipboard or prescription—but with six strings and two notes that sound good together.

A Different Kind of Therapy

McShane, an American Red Cross staff member and Navy veteran leads the music program in partnership with the Wounded Warrior Project (WWP) and the hospital’s mental health team. McShane’s modest charisma and talent with a guitar are often the highlight of a patient’s stay inside the clinic. The program offers service members a hands-on, non-traditional therapeutic outlet that complements clinical care for depression, anxiety, anger, stress, and adjustment challenges common in overseas assignments.

McShane has played guitar since the age of five and holds formal degrees in music. But the origins of the program were informal—and almost accidental.

Program Origins and Growth

In August 2022, one of BDAACH’s officers in charge heard McShane playing guitar in the off-base community, known as the Ville. Recognizing both his musical skill and his natural ability to connect with people, the officer posed a simple question: Could this work inside the mental health clinic?

McShane was invited to bring his guitar into the inpatient behavioral health unit, initially playing one to two times per week. What began as background music quickly evolved into something more interactive. Patients didn’t just want to listen—they wanted to play.

The sessions shifted into lesson-based groups, where patients learned basic chords and rhythms and actively participated. The response was immediate.

On discharge and checkout forms, patients consistently identified the music sessions as “the most useful group session” of their inpatient stay. That feedback became the foundation for sustaining—and expanding—the program.

As confidence in the initiative grew, the music sessions extended beyond inpatient behavioral health into outpatient addiction management, alcohol treatment programs, and pharmacy-supported care, reaching a broader segment of the warrior community.

What It Looks Like in the Room

The sessions themselves are intentionally simple.

Patients sit in a loose circle. Guitars are placed into their hands. The lesson doesn’t begin with music theory or pressure to perform. It begins with a single idea: a chord is usually three or more notes that sound good together—but in blues music, you can get away with two, says McShane.

That “rough” sound is the point.

Patients learn two-note blues shapes, moving from string to string to form A, D, and E—the building blocks of the 12-bar blues.

“These are the Legos,” McShane explains. “You don’t have to understand the whole structure yet. You just need something you can hold and build with.”

Once they hear it, something clicks. They’re not just making noise. They’re playing music.

Engagement You Can See

Most patients are not experiencing acute psychiatric crises; those cases are referred to higher-level facilities. Instead, what clinicians see most often are adjustment challenges—loneliness, depression, stress, and isolation.

For many soldiers, Korea is their first deployment. Time zone differences, family separation, and limited ability to manage things back home can take a heavy emotional toll. Many participants are also navigating medications that can dull focus and energy.

That’s why the transformation during music sessions stands out.

Service members who arrive withdrawn often become fully engaged once a guitar is in their hands. Attention narrows. They focus on counting measures, listening for changes, and moving deliberately from chord to chord.

“One patient told me it was the first time in weeks he wasn’t stuck in his own head,” McShane shared. “He said, ‘For 20 minutes, I was just here.’”

Built on Partnership and Trust

The program’s success depends on close coordination between BDAACH mental health professionals, the American Red Cross, and the Wounded Warrior Project. Clinicians oversee care and treatment plans, while music sessions offer a creative entry point that often helps patients engage more fully in their overall treatment.

“Music gives our patients a way to express things they can’t always put into words,” shared a member of the hospital’s mental health team. “It complements the clinical work in a powerful way.”

By operating inside the clinic, the program remains aligned with patient care plans and delivered in a controlled, supportive environment built on trust.

Why Guitar?

The answer is simple: authenticity.

Guitar is what McShane knows—and what he genuinely enjoys. If his passion were pottery or painting, he jokes, the program might look very different. That authenticity resonates with participants.

And the program continued to grow.

Today, the program is celebrating a major milestone: 1,000 patients delivered to patients at BDAACH.

Sessions are intentionally small—usually fewer than eight patients—allowing space for connection, focus, and trust. Each lesson represents more than learning music; it represents time spent rebuilding confidence, practicing patience, and stepping out of internal loops.

“There’s no rescuer narrative here,” McShane said. “I probably get as much out of this as they do. It puts me in a focused place too.”

Music as a Tool for Resilience

Music is not presented as a cure. It is a tool.

Learning an instrument engages memory, coordination, attention, and emotional regulation all at once. It is active, external, and multisensory—supporting the brain’s reward systems and reinforcing a sense of accomplishment.

Those effects often extend beyond the session itself. And when they fade, what remains is the memory of doing something constructive—of choosing engagement over isolation.

It doesn’t have to be guitar. It doesn’t even have to be music.

As the program celebrates its 1,000th patient and exploring future growth, it stands as a reminder that healing can take many forms—and that sometimes, the simplest tools are the most powerful.

Service members and families interested in learning more about available support services are encouraged to contact their local American Red Cross station or installation support offices to explore programs offered in partnership with the Wounded Warrior Project.

Sometimes, healing begins with just two notes—and someone willing to sit down and play them with you.

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Mission Moment Style -  1,000 Patients Served - Two Notes, Healing with the Blues

At first, the room is quiet.

Service members sit - carrying the weight of deployment, separation from family, medication side effects, and exhaustion on their shoulders often looking down. Then a guitar is passed across the circle. Fingers hesitate. A string buzzes. Someone laughs.

And just like that, the room begins to change.

Inside the behavioral health clinic at Brian D. Allgood Army Community Hospital (BDAACH) on Camp Humphreys, South Korea, healing sometimes starts not with a clipboard or prescription—but with six strings and two notes.

Over the past four years, American Red Cross and Wounded Warrior Program Coordinator Daniel “Dan-o” McShane, Navy veteran, has led a hands-on music program in partnership with the hospital’s mental health team. What began as informal sessions has grown into a meaningful therapeutic outlet for service members facing depression, anxiety, stress, anger, and the adjustment challenges that often come with overseas assignments.

The approach is intentionally simple. Patients sit in a circle and learn basic two-note blues patterns—the building blocks of the 12-bar blues. No experience is required. The goal isn’t performance—it’s engagement. Attention shifts to counting measures, listening for changes, and moving deliberately from note to note.

For many participants, the impact is immediate. One service member shared it was the first time in weeks he wasn’t stuck in his own head. Others consistently identify the music sessions as the most helpful part of their inpatient therapeutic journey. 

Today, the program has reached an important milestone: 1,000 patients served. With small group sizes that allow space for trust and connection, each session represents more than learning music—it’s time spent rebuilding confidence, practicing patience, and choosing connection over isolation.

Music is not a cure. It is a tool—one that engages the mind, supports emotional regulation, and reinforces a sense of accomplishment.

Sometimes, resilience begins with just two notes—and someone willing to sit down and play them with you.

Camp Humphreys