The snow and ice on the ground being packed by the soldiers tramping, the horses hitched to the artillery wagons were continually slipping and sliding and falling and wounding themselves and sometimes killing their riders.

The wind whistling with a keen and piercing shriek, seemed as if they would freeze the marrow in our bones.

The soldiers in the whole army got rebellious--almost mutinous--and would curse and abuse Stonewall Jackson; in fact, they called him "Fool Tom Jackson." They blamed him for the cold weather; they blamed him for everything, and when he would ride by a regiment they would take occasion, _sotto voce_, to abuse him, and call him "Fool Tom Jackson," and loud enough for him to hear.

Soldiers from all commands would fall out of ranks and stop by the road side and swear that they would not follow such a leader any longer.
When Jackson got to Romney, and was ready to strike Banks and Meade in a vital point, and which would have changed, perhaps, the destiny of the war and the South, his troops refused to march any further, and he turned, marched back to Winchester and tendered his resignation to the authorities at Richmond.

But the great leader's resignation was not accepted.