As a combat rescue officer, Lt. Joel Gentz helped to save 39 lives before his helicopter was shot down by Taliban rockets in Afghanistan six weeks into his first deployment.

Thursday, flags around Michigan flew at half staff to honor Gentz, and friends, family members and colleagues spoke in remembrance of him at a funeral service at St. Paul United Church of Christ in Chelsea. The service followed a processional from Cole Funeral Chapel down Main Street past dozens of residents who turned out to honor Gentz.

At the church, a flag-draped coffin was empty except for a navy blue Air Force jacket; Gentz's body was cremated following the June 9 crash.

A reflection of Gentz's good humor, speeches in his memory communicated more humorous and fond memories than heartache. They described Gentz's zest for life, passion and love for his family and wife, Kathryn.

By working to save the lives of fellow soldiers, Gentz was living out his dream career when he died, friends said. His job entailed leading personnel recovery operations in some of the most volatile areas in Afghanistan.

Gentz, 25, a 2002 Chelsea High School graduate, decided to become a pararescueman in college, friends said. He joined Air Force ROTC as a freshman while he earned his aerospace engineering degree at Purdue University, where he met his wife of two years.

After graduating from Purdue in 2007, Gentz received the same sort of intense training that a Navy Seal might. In the initial phase of the regimen, it's typical for 90 percent of those who sign up to drop out, military colleagues who trained with him said. But Gentz continued his chosen path, learning to jump out of planes from high altitudes and into extreme conditions to save lives, among many other skills.

Gentz "would stop at nothing to come and get you," said fellow combat rescue officer Chris Leonhardt.

Pararescuemen are "always outside the wire," said Lt. Col. Andrew Reisenweber, commander of the 58th Rescue Squadron at Nellis Airforce Base, where Gentz was assigned.

In Vietnam, they became famous for rescuing downed pilots. In the nine-year conflict in Afghanistan, they often jump to rescue soldiers following the detonation of improvised explosive devices, fellow officers said. Gentz, described as charismatic and a natural leader, had earned the title of combat rescue officer. In that role, he had been supervising a team of pararescuemen as he rode onto the job in an Air Force HH-60 Pavehawk Helicopter, flying in support of a NATO medevac mission, according to a Department of Defense statement, when he and three other crew members died in the crash.

The crash happened near Forward Operating Base Jackson in southern Helmand province's Sangin district.

Relatively few combat rescue officers and pararescuemen are on active duty, fellow officers said, and they are called to action constantly in the current conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Gentz's siblings, Rachel, 23, and Jared, 18, shared a number of memories of their brother. Rachel Gentz said she wanted to dispel rumors among his military friends that he was a "Department of Defense robot," which drew laughs from the packed church.

She described the various ways growing up in the family provided "urban" training opportunities leading up to his chosen career path, like doing reconnaissance work in the neighborhood at night while visiting relatives in Rochester, N.Y. After the siblings and cousins triggered motion-sensitive lights outside of one such neighborhood home, the group scattered, but he hit the ground and did an Army crawl to get away.

A number of speakers noted Gentz's compassion for others.

"Warriors without compassion are tyrants, and God knows we certainly have enough of them in the world right now," Reisenweber said.

Friends and family said they hoped to emulate him in their own words and actions.

"We always looked up to him," Rachel Gentz said, "and will try to have the compassion he always had. We'll miss you, Joel."

"Thank you for your beautiful smile," Gentz's mother, Judy, said, standing alongside his father, Steven. "We paid for it," she added, drawing laughs. "The smile in your heart we could not pay for - it's always been there."

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

Juliana Keeping is a reporter for AnnArbor.com. Reach her at julianakeeping@annarbor.com or 734-623-2528. Follow Juliana Keeping on Twitter