Larry Burrows was a seasoned veteran of the Vietnam War when, in early 1968, he met 12-year-old Nguyễn Thị Tròn. Operating out of Saigon, the southern Republic of Vietnam’s capital, the photographer had been covering the conflict for LIFE magazine since 1962. He shadowed American troops, documenting ferocious firefights, surviving hours in the air with helicopter-gunship crews, and freeze-framing harrowing moments of bravery and despair, exhaustion, and appalling violence in combat zones. Though much of his best work had been shot in the thick of the action, he had come to be haunted by the trauma visited upon the Vietnamese people he described as non-political, “simple and hardworking.” Most, he believed, were steamrollered by both the South and the communist North to “bear pain in silence.” Burrows noted their stoicism with awe. “I was walking the streets of Saigon, as I’ve been doing for six years, thinking I’d never really told of the misery and suffering,” the photographer later recalled of meeting Tròn.