Jackson was everywhere along the line cheering the troops and even helping them along. We are told by Cooke, our great Virginia writer, that, as Jackson was passing a point in the road where a piece of artillery had stalled, while a crowd of men were looking on without helping, he stopped, dismounted, and, without uttering a word, put his shoulder to the wheel. The men, shamed, came forward to take their places, the horses were whipped up, and the piece moved on.
After great hardships, the little army at last reached Romney, on the 14th of January, to find that the Federals had retreated, leaving behind them large military stores, which fell into the hands of the Confederates.
Even then, the name of Jackson was a terror to the foe. With a force much larger than Jackson’s, and when he was more than a day’s march distant, the Federals had fled and left the greater part of their baggage.
In sixteen days, he had driven the enemy out of his district, had rendered the railroad useless to the Federals for more than a hundred miles, and had captured arms enough to equip an army as large as his own. This he had done with the loss of four men killed and twenty-eight wounded.
Leaving General Loring at Romney with a portion of the army, Jackson hastened back to Winchester to watch the movements of General Banks, who was stationed, with a large army, near Harper’s Ferry.
Upon his return, he found the whole country in an uproar over the expedition to Romney through the sleet and snow. Though no one could say that Jackson was not full of courage and devotion to the South, many said that he was cruel and not fit to be in command of an army. Some said that he was a madman; others, that he was without common sense. Another charge against him was that he was partial to the Stonewall Brigade, as he had brought it back with him to the comforts of a town, while he had left Loring’s command in the mountains. The soldiers of the brigade were called “Jackson’s Pet Lambs,” and other like names.
Now, the truth was, that Loring’s men were far more comfortable than those of the Stonewall Brigade; the former being ordered into huts, while the latter were in tents, three miles from Winchester.
Another charge against him was that he would tell his plans to no one. “It was his maxim,” says Dabney, “that in war, mystery was the key to success.” He argued that no man could tell what bit of news might not be of use to the foe, and therefore, that it was the part of wisdom to conceal everything.
This secrecy irritated his officers, and it must be said that some of them so far forgot their duty as soldiers as to treat General Jackson with disrespect.
Though all of these charges were known to Jackson, he took no notice of them, but was proceeding to connect Romney with Winchester by telegraph wires when, on January 31st, he received this order from Richmond: “Order Loring back to Winchester at once.”