Little did Maximilian (Max) Fiedler imagine - when he entered the prestigious Salem International College near ?berlingen in southern Germany to complete his high school education and earn his International Baccalaureate - that a tragic event some years later would sharpen his focus on a future career.

As the grandson of a film director, and only son of well-known director of photography Reimar Fiedler and his wife Wendy, owners of Panatel VDS Ltd., Max had grown up around cameras and cans of film, so it was not unreasonable to assume that some day he might follow in his forebears' footsteps, and indeed, with some practical experience, he had toyed with the idea himself. Yet it took a twist of fate to focus his thoughts more closely.

As always, his camera was beside him on the night of July 1 this year while he studied with his friend Dominic in Salem's computer lab. Neither student had an inkling that, what had begun as a normal day in one of the most beautiful parts of Germany, with the countryside in all its summer finery, would end so tragically.

At 10 p.m. the young men heard an ominous rumbling in the darkness. As it grew nearer, they assumed that a thunderstorm was breaking over them. Rushing to an open window, Dominic quickly realised that something was very wrong. From out of the night sky blazing objects were raining down.

"Max, get the hell out of here," he yelled.

A Bashkirian Airlines Tu-154 bound for Spain, carrying 69 people including 45 young Russian schoolchildren on the holiday of a lifetime, had collided virtually overhead with a DHL Boeing 757-200 cargo jet and its two pilots. There would be no survivors.

Instinctively grabbing his camera, Max fled to the outside world, accompanied by his friend. Initially, the air was filled with the screaming of their fellow students, and as he looked up into the darkness, he saw what appeared to be fireballs raining down.

"We learned that the 'fireballs' were actually the bodies of the little Russian children, soaked in kerosene, which were falling from 12 kilometres up in the air," Max says. "Everyone freaked out, and we were afraid that pieces of aircraft would also fall down on us."

In fact, a wing from one of the ill-fated aircraft did fall very close to the school, and the air soon filled with the distinctive stench of aircraft fuel, then smoke and flames.

The scenes in the immediate aftermath of the mid-air collision were filmed by Max until, like his fellow students, he was ordered to fulfil the role for which he had been trained in high and upper school: firefighting.

Salem has a tradition of training its high school students in various spheres of community service, among them: firefighting, technical engineering (assisting in such disasters as earthquakes), nautical (e.g. lifesaving), social (e.g. caring for small children, assisting with homework), environmental (e.g. erecting fences to stop frogs crossing roads), and medical. At the upper level, students add practical experience to their theoretical studies, and the training is so thorough that at the end of it they are qualified to serve alongside the professionals.

When Max donned his firefighting gear and was dispatched elsewhere, he passed his camera to another firefighter, who shot some footage before handing it on to a bus driver at the crash scene, who continued to record exclusive footage well ahead of everyone else, including the local media, before the camera was eventually returned to him.

When his friends learned of the film's existence, they urged Max to contact the news stations. Instead, he accepted the offer of 2,000 from a new television station, which quickly sent someone to collect it.

"It was freaky to see my film on TV and hear people calling out, 'Oh God! Oh no!'," the teenager remembers.

Despite the unexpected windfall, the young cameraman never for a moment contemplated keeping the money. As harrowing as the disaster was, with wreckage falling within a whisker of his school, and leaving him with such traumatic memories, Max is a genuinely civic-minded and compassionate young man, so he ignored the advice of his fellow students to, among other suggestions, throw a big party, and elected to donate it to charity instead.

"There is an all-boys school in Kenya which is adopted by the Round Square, and we send funds to it. From a personal standpoint, I decided I would send the money there because I am a member of the Round Square," he says.

"This was introduced by Kurt Hahn, and is basically an organisation of all schools which practise his basic principles around the world. I knew the money would be more beneficial to the African school than to me."

Now relaxing in Bermuda for the summer, Max is trying to put the haunting memories of the air disaster behind him and get on with his life. While he aspires to become a professional film director - "I want to be rich and famous some day" - the full blessing of both parents is still pending. Meanwhile, he will return to Salem International College to complete his studies.

Just what is it like to be the only Bermudian in a European school? Max thinks it is a great experience.

Having received his early education at Saltus Grammar School, the transition to a German-based institution might have been traumatic for him, but because Salem is an international college the universal language of instruction is English.

Students come from countries as diverse as Tanzania, Byelorussia, Spain and Taiwan, and it is this cosmopolitan atmosphere which he feels will benefit him throughout his life.

As might be expected of a school founded by the late Kurt Hahn, who also founded Gordonstoun, where the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Charles and other members of the Royal family attended, Max describes his curriculum as "extremely tough and huge". There is, he says, little time for tomfoolery. Subjects he is now studying for his International Baccalaureate include economics, English, German, art and design, mathematics, English world literature, and the theory of language.

"Everyone has to take the last one because it develops your thinking," he notes.

While international awareness is stressed, neither religion, nationalism nor politics are forced upon the students.

At the pre-college level, students are treated as young adults and given latitude to enjoy themselves. They are allowed to drink, smoke and play loud music without punishment, as well as visits towns and cities at will in their free time. However, the price of debauchery at the expense of one's studies is not without penalty. Students who fritter their time away will not last long in the intense, competitive atmosphere.

Asked if he thought other young Bermudians would fit into the German school environment, Max demurs.

Citing his family ties to Germany and his familiarity with its people as an advantage, he says: "How you behave around Germans is very important. Going to an international boarding school in France, Germany or Austria would be extremely hard for Bermudians because it is a different mentality. In fact, it is always a big culture shock when I come back here."

Once Max has completed his final year of the International Baccalaureate programme, he wants to spend a gap year doing community work in either Thailand or Africa before he either goes to film school or pursues a university degree in business studies.

"I would like to work over there and get some experience because I need a break after all that studying," he says. "My dream is to work in an African nature reserve, driving jeeps around the plains."

Despite spending most of his life in English-speaking Bermuda, schooling in his father's homeland has left him with a distinct German accent, but also a deeper sense of appreciation for his European roots. Which is why, if he decides to enrol in the New York Film Academy, he wants to study in either its Paris or London affiliates, which are also less expensive.

Whether or not Max Fiedler becomes tomorrow's Stephen Spielberg remains to be seen, but of one thing he is certain: the tragedy of July 1 has taught him the value of life and the importance of pursuing one's dreams.