Early in January 1915 the Russian troops were withdrawn from Urmia, which lies on the frontier between Turkey and Persia, and simultaneously the Moslem population began to plunder the Christian villages, the inhabitants of which fled for refuge to the missions in the city.  Talaat’s official murder-scheme was not completed yet, but the Kurds, together with the Turks, had planned a local massacre at Geogtapa, which was stopped by the American doctor of this mission, Dr. Packard, who, at great personal risk, obtained an interview with the Kurdish chief, and succeeded in inducing him to spare the lives of the Christians, if they gave up arms and ammunition and property.  The American flag was hoisted over the Mission buildings, and before a week was out there were over ten thousand refugees housed in the yards and rooms, where they remained for five months, the places of the dead being taken by fresh influxes.  The dining-room, the sitting-room, the church, the school, were all given over to these destitute people, and from the beginning fear of massacre, as well as prevalence of disease, haunted the camp.  It was impossible to move dead bodies outside; they had to be buried in the thronged yards, and every day children were born.  But here is the spirit that animated their protectors.  ‘We have just had a Praise meeting,’ records the diarist at the close of the first fortnight, ’with fifty or sixty we could gather from the halls and rooms near, and we feel more cheerful.  We thought if Paul and Silas, with their stripes, could sing praises in prison, so could we.’

The weeks, of which each day was a procession of hours too full of work to leave time for anxiety, began to enrol themselves into months, and the hope of rescue by a Russian advance made their hearts sick, so long was it deferred.  Refugees from neighbouring villages kept arriving, and there was the constant problem before these devoted friends of their flock, as to how to feed them.  All such were welcome, and eager was the welcome they received, though every foot of space in the buildings and in the yards was occupied.  But somehow they managed to make room for all who came, and for those villagers who, under threat of torture and massacre, had apostatised, there was but yearning and sorrow, but never a word of blame or bitterness.  Sometimes there was a visit of Turkish troops to search for concealed Russians, and, as our diarist remarks, ’We can’t complain of the monotony of life, for we never know what is going to happen next.  On Tuesday morning we had a wedding in my room here.  The boy and girl were simple villagers....  The wedding was fixed for the Syrian New Year, but the Kurds came and carried off wedding clothes and everything else in the house.  They all fled here, and were married in the old dirty garments they were wearing when they ran for their lives....  Their only present was a little tea and sugar that I tied up in a handkerchief and gave to the bride.’