In some ways, Lt. Col. John Hillen seemed like a highly decorated, tough-as- nails retired Army officer, a former Army Ranger and Green Beret who served two tours in Vietnam. He advised Iranian troops in the mid-1970s, before the Islamic Revolution, and developed a deep interest in Mideast policy.
Then there was the poem he wrote for his wife, a schoolteacher. He called it “A Teacher’s Prayer,” and it’s widely reprinted, particularly as storms set in during early winter.
Hillen, 72, who died April 27 in a traffic accident near his home in Sanford, N.C., was a complex and interesting man, said his son and namesake, who was assistant secretary of state for political and military affairs during the George W. Bush administration.
Almost 40 years ago, the elder Hillen was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for his actions during the Vietnam War. In 1974, he received a master’s degree in Middle East studies from George Washington University, and he became fluent in the language and culture of Iran before his deployment there.
Hillen, who had been a senior parachutist, taught Iranian airborne and infantry troops military strategy and tactics.
“Here’s a guy with a resume of Hector and Achilles, but his writing of a funny teacher poem resonated in the teacher community,” said John F. Hillen III, who himself became the senior government official working with Arab allies on issues involving Iran.
Hillen’s literary streak led him to appreciate the British style of obituary writing, particularly as practiced by the Telegraph, for its biting asides and sly wit.
He had a facility for languages, learning Vietnamese and Farsi before his deployments to Vietnam and Iran, respectively, and practiced the Chinese martial art of tai chi.
John Francis Hillen Jr. was born May 24, 1936, in Brooklyn, N.Y. He graduated from the City College of New York in 1959 and joined the Army.
“A Teacher’s Prayer”
One night as I lay almost sleeping, I heard a voice, softly peeping.
I saw my wife devoutly praying.
This is the prayer I heard her saying:
Oh, Lord, let it snow.
Let it drift and let it blow.
In the morning, no real fuss,
Just enough to stop the bus.
Enough to make the County say:
“There will be no school today.”
Let the radio report: “Snow’s deep!”
And I’ll roll over for more sleep.
Then later on, say maybe ten,
I’ll turn the radio on again.
Just in time to hear them say:
“It’s strange; the snow has gone away!”
And then I’ll know, You made it stop,
So I can go to the mall and shop.
Please, Lord, just hear my teacher’s plea,
And make it snow for the kids and me!
