“Give them blizzards, boys! Give them blizzards!”
—William Loring, March 13, 1863

Loring did not remain long in New Mexico. Although never a secessionist, the Confederate attack on Fort Sumter left the native Southerner little choice. During a conference with his officers in Santa Fe, Loring told them, “The South is my home, and I am going to throw up my commission and shall join the Southern Army, and each of you can do as you think best.” On May 13, 1861, William Loring resigned his commission in the U.S. Army. (One of his officers, future Confederate general James Longstreet had resigned four days earlier.) Loring waited almost a month for Washington to accept his resignation, but heard nothing. On June 11, after placing Major E. R. S. Canby in charge, he moved to Fort Fillmore, close to El Paso. In late June, Loring relinquished formal command of New Mexico and began making his way to Richmond. Some historians have speculated that Loring planned to deliver New Mexico to the South, but whatever his intent, and despite a direct plea to do so from his old friend Henry Sibley (which Loring never received), the fact remains that he left New Mexico and the Regiment of Mounted Riflemen in Union hands.

Arriving in Richmond on July 20, Loring met with Robert E. Lee. The commander of Virginia’s military forces (who until March 16 had been outranked by Loring) made the colonel a brigadier general, and assigned him to command the Army of Northwestern Virginia. Loring’s first assignment was to stop George B. McClellan, who had invaded Western Virginia from Ohio. Loring was immediately hampered by supply problems, inadequate equipment, and bad weather. Even worse, his green troops were racked by diseases like the measles. A week after Loring arrived, Robert E. Lee showed up to take charge of all troops in the theater. While Loring certainly viewed Lee’s arrival as a sign that the government did not trust him, it appears that stories of conflict between the two generals are somewhat overblown. Unsuccessful attacks at Cheat Mountain and Laurel Mountain did little to enhance either general’s reputation, but the operations did prevent a Union advance into Virginia. Whatever the true story, Lee was left with serious misgivings about his subordinate. It is also possible that Lee blamed Loring for the death of his brother-in-law, John Augustine Washington. The grand-nephew of George Washington and the last Washington to own Mount Vernon, he had taken part in a reconnaissance mission ordered by Loring. Washington was killed instantly in an ambush by a Union picket, and Lee’s son Fitzhugh narrowly escaped on Washington’s horse.

Whatever Lee’s feelings, Loring continued to command the respect of his men. Soldier John Worsham provided the following view of the general during a lighter moment:

We worked a great deal on the roads. Some of the men while at work one day under the direction of a corporal, were observed by Gen. Loring in his rounds. He dismounted, gave some directions as to work, and then took a seat on a log near him. The corporal joined him, and seating himself near the general, made some remarks about the work, and said to Gen. Loring, “General, we officers have a good time up here, don’t we?” General Loring looked at him, and then asked his rank. He replied: “Corporal!” The general, who was a profane man, let some “cuss words” loose at him, and told him to take a spade; and it is said the corporal made the dirt fly as long as Gen. Loring was in sight.

In late 1861, Loring’s army was ordered to assist that of General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson. Typically, Jackson, who demanded blind obedience, kept his plans a secret from Loring (who was, despite Jackson’s brilliance, a far more experienced officer). Jackson intended to take the town of Bath, and then move into Maryland and destroy the Union supply depots there. The campaign against the Federals was hampered by miserable winter weather and serious supply problems. At one point, receiving an order from Jackson to keep his men moving, Loring blew up at the messenger, thundering “By God, Sir, this is the damnedest outrage ever perpetrated in the annals of history, keeping my men out here in the cold without food!” The bluecoats abandoned Bath, but with help from the weather, were able to block Jackson’s way into Maryland. “Stonewall” now moved west. On January 15th, the Army of the Valley reached Romney, an isolated town which would change hands some 56 times during the war. Loring’s forces were ordered to make winter quarters there, while Jackson and his men headed back to Winchester. The retreating Yankees had turned the town into a cesspool, a mixture of deep mud, sewage, and rotting meat. While there, Loring’s men, hundreds of them sick, endured cold and wet conditions, as well as a lack of supplies. Loring himself would eventually contract pneumonia. John Worsham gave this account of the weather:

...the most terrible experience during the war. Many men were frozen to death, others frozen so badly they never recovered, and the rheumatism contracted by many was never gotten rid of. Many of the men were incapacitated for service, large numbers were barefooted, having burned their shoes while trying to warm their feet at the fires.

Perhaps the most interesting eyewitness assessment comes from Dr. Charles Quintard, a chaplain in the Confederate army who was briefly to serve as Loring’s aide-de-camp :

I cannot begin to tell all that our troops suffered through the stupidity and want of forethought, (as I then thought it), of Major-General Jackson. It is enough to say that we were subjected to the severest trials that human nature could endure. We left Winchester with 2,700 men in General Anderson’s Brigade of Tennesseeans. That number was reduced to 1,100. When we reached the position opposite the town of Hancock, Maryland, the First Regiment numbered 680. In Romney, it mustered only 230 men fit for duty. I felt that General Loring ought to demand that he might be allowed to withdraw his forces from the command of Major-General Jackson.

So far as the personal staff of General Loring (including myself) was concerned, it was comfortably situated in a very pleasant new house. But no one could possibly imagine the horrible condition of affairs at Romney among the troops; and when Stonewall Jackson took his command back to Winchester, the men of Loring’s command shouted to them: “There go your F. F. V.’s!” [First Families of Virginia.] The “pet lambs” of the Stonewall Brigade were comfortably housed at Winchester while the troops of Loring’s command were left behind in Romney to endure the bitter, biting weather.

With his men on the verge of mutiny, Loring forwarded a petition written by his officers condemning the situation. Jackson sent the petition on to Secretary of War Judah Benjamin (bypassing his superior, Joseph Johnston). After consulting with President Jefferson Davis, Benjamin ordered Loring’s army back to Winchester. Jackson, who felt his authority had been undermined, initially tendered his resignation, and then brought charges of insubordination against Loring. When Loring was given a chance to respond, Davis decided not to pursue the court-martial. The Confederate government, not wanting to lose either officer, decided instead to defuse the situation. Loring was promoted to major general and reassigned to Southeastern Virginia, while Jackson went on to become a legend. The conflict ended any real chance of glory for Loring, who might have taken part in many of the most famous battles of the war. Not one to suffer fools (or anyone he thought foolish) gladly, Loring often came into conflict with superior officers with whom he disagreed. Part of this was due to the fact Loring had not attended West Point, thereby lacking the respect for the command structure drilled into cadets. But it is also well known that Jefferson Davis did not smile on officers (including Joseph Johnston) who had not attended the institution. In any event, the Confederacy badly misused the vastly experienced Loring, who would have been an ideal commander for daring raids and other similar actions.

In February of 1862, Loring was sent to Norfolk, Virginia. During the trip, Loring and Quintard stopped in Richmond: “...I called with him on President Jefferson Davis and was very agreeably disappointed in his personal appearance and bearing. I might have witnessed the ceremonies of his inauguration, but as the day set for that function proved very inclement, I was glad that I chose to spend it on the cars between Richmond and Norfolk. On that day General Loring had a very severe chill followed by congestion of the right lung, which was the precursor of an attack of pneumonia affecting both lungs. I watched by his bedside in Norfolk through all his illness, which prolonged my visit in that city for several weeks.” In fact, Loring would spend more than a month in the naval hospital.

By early April, Loring had sufficiently recovered, and took part in another interesting adventure. Aboard a steamer in Hampton Roads, he watched the CSS Virginia make an attempt to lure the USS Monitor into battle (despite constant prodding by the Virginia, the two ironclads would never repeat their historic duel of March 9). As Dr. Quintard recounted, “Although the enemy refused to fight, the “Monitor” threw a number of shells, several of which passed over our little steamer. We deemed it, therefore, good military, (and naval) tactics to withdraw and let the contestants attend to their own business.”

On his return to duty, Loring was given the task of defending Suffolk. In late April, his men defeated a Union force that was attempting to advance north from Elizabeth City, North Carolina. However, by early May, as George McClellan’s armies moved up the peninsula, the Confederacy decided to abandon Norfolk. Loring was forced to retreat along with the rest of Joe Johnston’s forces.

Loring was now assigned to the Department of Southwestern Virginia, where he would protect Richmond’s rear during the Union invasion. The job was largely administrative, and the major general had to deal with such issues as drafting local men for the service and collecting taxes. While he quickly tired of this work, he did pull off one great military victory. In September of 1862, as Robert E. Lee invaded Maryland, Loring led a campaign into the Kanawha Valley of West Virginia. He defeated the enemy, reclaimed 40,000 square miles of territory, captured Charleston, and his cavalry even briefly crossed into Ohio. Lee requested that Loring take part in a joint invasion of Pennsylvania, but for a variety of reasons (mostly owing to renewed Federal activity in West Virginia), Loring was eventually ordered to stay put by Secretary of War John Randolph. In mid-October, Loring resigned his command, due to a conflict over state recruiting practices by Virginia governor John Lechter. It was the end of his service in the Old Dominion; when told that the general sought reassignment, Robert E. Lee icily responded, “There is no room in this army for that man.” Loring would now go west, to Mississippi. By the end of 1862, the new Confederate commander in Western Virginia, John Echols, had lost all the territory gained by Loring in September.

Late in December, Loring was back in action, sent to aid in the defense of Vicksburg, where some small fame awaited him. In 1863, ordered to keep the Federals from moving up the Tallahatchie River, Loring and his men built Fort Pemberton, which was located on a narrow neck of land between that river and the Yazoo. To further hamper the bluecoats, he had the Star of the West (the same ship that had unsuccessfully tried to relieve Fort Sumter in January of 1861) sunk across the Tallahatchie, blocking any advance. On March 11, the Federals opened fire, but found their shells did little damage to the cotton-bale and earth fort. With only three cannon, Loring and his men turned away the Union flotilla, which included two ironclads. During the battle, Loring earned the nickname “Old Blizzards” by shouting “Give them blizzards, boys, give them blizzards!” above the din of the cannon. (Renowned for his excitability and temper, one of Loring’s men once commented that the general could “curse a cannon up hill without horses.”) By early April, Loring had driven the Federals back up the river.

By May, Ulysses Grant had moved between John Pemberton’s army at Vicksburg and Joseph Johnston’s at Jackson. Despite orders from Johnston, Pemberton tarried at Vicksburg, a decision that didn’t sit well with Loring. (During the U.S. assault on Mexico City 15 years earlier, Pemberton had been a lieutenant, and Loring a lieutenant colonel.) Old Blizzards had little respect for Pemberton to begin with, and now began openly ridiculing his orders. Finally, Pemberton made an attempt to break away from the city, but it was too late. During the battle of Bakers’s Creek (or Champion’s Hill), Grant forced Pemberton to retreat over Baker’s Creek bridge into Vicksburg, and certain siege. (Lloyd Tilghman, one of Loring’s brigadiers, was killed while holding the bridge open.) As the fighting progressed, Loring’s division became separated from Pemberton’s army. But instead of trying to fight his way back toward Vicksburg, Old Blizzards revealed other plans. One of his men remembered:

Gen. Loring came riding down our lines close up to us, and was encouraging the boys and told us that we had been sold, but he...called on all to follow him and he would take us out.

Among the men who took part in the events at Vicksburg were Alexander Reynolds, Samuel Lockett, and William Dye. All would one day serve directly under Loring in the Egyptian army.

Despite his very public footprints, there is much about Loring we’ll never know. What was he really like? Newspapers of the day give us some degree of help. In July, 1863, The Southern Illustrated News ran a front-page feature on Old Blizzards. The following month, Leslie’s Illustrated Weekly (a Northern paper) offered this portrait:

General Loring is a native of Mississippi [a mistake, although he was currently in command of troops from that state] and is considered one of the best officers in the southern army. He lost an arm in the Mexican War. His personal characteristics are those of a gentleman, treats everybody with profound respect, and espouses the cause of the rebels because he believes it is just. He is five feet, nine inches high, dresses magnificently, and aims to secure the confidence of his men. He is a jovial, good-hearted fellow, and worthy of a better cause. He was recently in command at Greenwood, where the Federal troops were repulsed.

But while Loring usually held the respect of the men who served under him (and there are a number of glowing accounts), some held a different opinion. Colonel William McE. Dye, who served under Loring in Egypt, provided this view:

I have been told by a gentleman who served under him in the Confederate Army that a certain peculiar energy of the General’s gained for him the not very euphonious appellation of “Old Bluster.” He has a kindly heart when he is in good health; although he is often fretful...and passionate, causing him to do things spasmodically and hastily, and to say things he does not always mean. Indeed, his violent prejudices sometimes warp his judgment.

In late June and early July, Johnston (with Loring, his newest division commander) made an attempt to relieve Vicksburg. But as the Army of Relief neared the city, Pemberton surrendered his 30,000 men to Grant. Instead of being able to squeeze the Federals between two armies, Johnston now found his force dangerously exposed, and he quickly retreated to Jackson. William Sherman and twelve divisions pursued the Confederates to the Mississippi capital, and soon began a fierce bombardment of the city. Wanting to avoid another siege, Johnston retreated again, this time to eastern Mississippi.

Loring soon changed commanders again. In December, Johnston was sent to Georgia, and Leonidas Polk (a lieutenant general and an Episcopal bishop) took command of the Army of Mississippi. In early February of 1864, Sherman began a two-pronged thrust towards Meridian. Polk, who was in Mobile, Alabama, placed Loring in command until he could return. There was little Old Blizzards could do against Sherman’s 20,000 men, a force that outnumbered his by two to one. By the middle of February, the bluecoats had captured Meridian, but went no further. Sherman’s cavalry was about to be defeated by Nathan Bedford Forrest’s horsemen, a setback which would stop his planned advance into Alabama. The Union commander would have to find another way to cut across the heart of the Confederacy.

By early May, Sherman had picked his target: Atlanta. Back under the command of Johnston (although Polk was still his corps commander), Loring and his division were sent to Resaca, Georgia. During the next five months, Old Blizzards took an active role in Sherman and Johnston’s cat-and-mouse game through the mountains of north Georgia. When General Leonidas Polk was killed at Pine Mountain, Loring took command of the Army of Mississippi. The new corps commander played a major part in the battle of Kennesaw Mountain, in which Sherman lost some 3,000 men during a largely futile attack. However, Sherman soon outflanked Johnston again, and the Confederates were forced out of the mountains. In the meantime, Jefferson Davis had appointed Alexander Stewart to lead Polk’s Corps. Loring, who, in the words of an observer was “deeply chagrined,” returned to his old command. Two weeks later, as Sherman surrounded Atlanta, Davis replaced Johnston with John Bell Hood.

As Sherman prepared to attack, Hood made an attempt to isolate one of the three Union columns. During the battle of Peachtree Creek, Loring’s division held a hill near Piedmont Park, an area of the city still known today as Loring Heights. During this first encounter, Hood lost almost 5,000 men (1,000 of those were Loring’s). It was a sad taste of worse days to come. On July 28, Old Blizzards was hit in the chest during the battle of Ezra Church. The bullet wound kept Loring out of action for 43 days. By the time he returned to duty, the Confederacy had decided to abandon Georgia’s largest city.

Now Hood adopted a strategy of trying to draw Sherman out of Atlanta. For a while, the plan seemed to work, and Loring’s division helped tear up the rail line supplying the Federals. Faced with a war of attrition, Sherman made a fateful decision: he would take the initiative, march east to Savannah, and “make Georgia howl.” As Sherman departed, Hood launched his own bold march to the north towards Louisville and Cincinnati. But while Sherman’s men enjoyed nothing short of a romp, Hood’s army seemed to only reap misfortune. After a series of miscues and minor skirmishes, Hood engaged the enemy near Franklin, Tennessee. During the bloody ensuing battle, Loring’s men were stopped at a deep railway cut, and pinned down under Federal artillery fire. Old Blizzards did everything he could to rally his men, “commanding, exhorting, entreating, denouncing...to no purpose.” As Chaplain James M’Neilly later remembered:

He was in full uniform that glittered with golden adornments, his sword belt around him and the broad band across his shoulder and breast were gleaming in gold; his spurs were gilt; his sword and scabbard were polished to the utmost brightness; over his hat drooped a great dark plume of ostrich feathers. He sat perfectly motionless, glittering in the light of the sinking sun. As the bullets hissed about him thick as hail, he seemed to court or defy death...and he cried out, “Great God! Do I command cowards?” Then Loring turned alone on the horse and faced the enemy fire for over a minute...a perfect target for some Union sharpshooter who dreamed of felling a Rebel general....Then Loring turned and galloped to the rear to regroup the unit.

The Confederacy lost more than 6,000 men that day, including a dozen generals. Of Loring’s three brigadiers, John Adams was killed and Thomas Scott was wounded. Hood would pursue the Federals north, but it was too late: his once-proud army was wrecked. Old Blizzards and his men took part in the battle of Nashville, where a fierce Union attack effectively eliminated the Army of Tennessee as a fighting force. Loring was forced to watch his men flee en masse, the only time during the war that a major Confederate force was totally routed. During the next two weeks, the Confederates made a desperate retreat through the ice, snow and mud of Tennessee to Alabama and Mississippi. In mid-January, Hood resigned his command.

As the war drew to a close, Loring was sent to the Carolinas, where Joseph Johnston was preparing to meet Sherman’s advancing army. Loring took part in the final Southern offensive of the war, at Bentonville, North Carolina. The battle failed to check Sherman’s advance, and there was nothing left to do but retreat west towards Greensboro. Loring’s service to the Confederacy came to a close when Johnston surrendered to William Sherman near Durham on April 26, 1865.