“The divisions of Anderson and McLaws,” answered Jackson. Lee paused and then said: “Well, go on.” Jackson saluted, saying: “My troops will move at once, sir.” Everything was ready, every order was given, when Jackson looked at his watch. It was six o’clock in the evening,—“You may go forward, sir.” This whole Southern force moved like an avalanche on the unsuspecting Federals, who received a deadly fire from behind. They ran before the advancing foe. Here and there they took a stand to resist the attack, then on again. Jackson followed them with his pounding artillery. “Press right ahead, press them, press them,” cried Jackson, as he rode by his men. “You should not expose yourself so much,” said a staff officer as he grabbed his rein. “There is no danger, sir,” he replied; “the enemy is routed. Go back and tell General Hill to press on.” But Hooker appeared before the right of his men, ordered a stand to be taken, and Jackson was obliged to stop and collect his scattered troops. But half a mile now divided the Confederate and Federal lines; Jackson’s men were scattered in the dark woods, and were running about, “disorderly as a city mob.” Divisions, brigades, companies, all were mixed. At nine o’clock the “rising moon lit dimly the broken, shadowed spaces of the battlefield.” Jackson and his staff were moving quietly about. He drew rein one hundred yards away and listened. To the North Carolina brigade, they looked like Federal cavalry. The skirmish line fired a few shots towards the staff, then a whole company turned a volley to the front; two officers fell. Jackson struck the spurs to his horse and advanced toward the lines, when a regiment blazed out upon him. His horse jumped and started in the direction of the enemy. The limbs of the trees whipped the face of the rider, and Jackson’s arms fell to his side. He was lifted from his saddle to the ground, and Hill bent over him. “General, are you much hurt?” “I think I am,” said Jackson, “and all the wounds are from my own men.” The North Carolina soldiers stopped firing, but soon the battle began again. As Jackson was being removed to the rear, he said: “Tell them simply that you have a wounded officer.” But, as he passed, a soldier cried out: “Good God, it is General Jackson!” When Mrs. Jackson arrived on Sunday morning, May 10, Jackson was very low. She told him he was going to die. He tossed about during the afternoon, and his mind began to be cloudy. In a restless sleep he muttered, “Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action. Pass the infantry to the front.” It was a little later, when he made his famous saying, “No, let us pass over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.” He spoke no more, but fell into the sleep which knows no waking. “Could I have dictated events,” wrote General Lee, “I should have chosen, for the good of the country, to have been disabled in your stead.”