Those who knew Lt. Col. William “Bill” Schroeder said he was deeply devoted to his wife and two young children, and wanted airmen under his command to know they had an Air Force family that they could turn to in tough times.

On Friday, the Air Force was there for his family a week after Schroeder, a special operations veteran, was killed in a murder-suicide at Joint Base San Antonio-Lackland. Though far from the combat zones he’d been in, they said, he lived by the warrior’s code to the end.

“He realized that he was caught in a near-ambush and guys, there’s two options in a near-ambush,” retired Air Force Col. Kurt Buller told a crowd of 1,800 people at a memorial ceremony at Lackland’s Gateway Chapel. “Retreat, and history has showed us that’s fatal for everyone, or attack, and history will show that there will be casualties, but there will be far less.”

Schroeder, 39, saved a first sergeant who stood in a room with him at Forbes Hall on Lackland’s Medina Annex before being shot four times. The assailant, Technical Sgt. Steven D. Bellino, 41, of Parma Heights, Ohio, then turned the gun on himself.

The shooting jolted the Air Force and drew a strong show of support to Friday’s ceremony, starting with an honor cordon of more than 700 basic training graduates who stood along a road leading to the chapel. There, 1,200 people filtered in, as did another 600 who watched the ceremony on a closed-circuit TV feed in a nearby room.

Schroeder, who will be buried in Arlington National Cemetery, was posthumously awarded the Airman’s Medal, given to those who distinguish themselves by a heroic act — usually at the voluntary risk of their lives but not involving combat.

He lived in the Air Force Special Operations Command’s shadowy world and had a long list of assignments over his career as a combat weather team operator that took him to Afghanistan, Iraq, Bosnia, Mali and Mauritania. Buller took a fast liking to Schroeder, quickly deciding that he was the right officer to command the 10th Combat Weather Squadron at Hurlburt Field.

Buller said he wanted someone who’d answer the phone and make decisions, and soon discovered just how serious his new commander was about it. Schroeder, an ultra-marathon runner, would do one-mile jogs down the beach and stop to check his phone. He’d run another mile, and check the phone again.

But if devoted to command, Schroeder had a softer side. Maj. William Herman helped Schroeder and his family look for a home when they came to San Antonio to command the 342nd Training Squadron. That’s how Herman was introduced to Abby and the kids, Noah and Mason.

The family quickly became a fixture at Forbes Hall. One day, Herman said, Mason erased much of a white board that had a long list of tasks on it. In its place were drawings of houses and other things, he said, adding, “It was better than what we would come up with, anyway.”

The crowd laughed. Herman and others stressed that the service would not mark an end for their friend and brother. They vowed to be there for the family and to tell the story of his life to his children.

“If Bill Schroeder were standing here today, I have no doubt that this is what he would tell you: ‘Go home, kiss your spouse, hug your kids, call your parents, take care of your family,’” said Chaplain Thaddaeus Werner. “He would say, ‘Do your job well, men; it matters.’ And he would say, ‘Take care of your wingmen and your Air Force family.’”

sigc@express-news.net