Feb 04 , 2026

Ernest E. Evans and Samuel B. Roberts' Last Stand at Samar

Flames tore through the morning mist. The USS Samuel B. Roberts had just been struck, but Commander Ernest E. Evans was not about to let his ship or men die quietly. Surrounded by battleships and cruisers ten times his firepower, Evans gave one order: fight like hell—no retreat. The day was October 25, 1944, off Samar Island. The Japanese fleet loomed like a myth come to life. Death sat in every turret and on every deck. But so did Evans—unyielding.

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From Farm Boy to Warrior-Priest

Born in 1908, Ernest E. Evans knew hardship from the start. Oklahoma soil bred grit, but faith hardened his resolve. Raised in a stubborn Methodist household, Evans carried quiet scripture in his pocket—a spiritual armor as strong as any steel.

He wasn’t just a naval officer. He was a shepherd for his men, a man who believed leadership was about sacrifice, not comfort. His code was clear: Do the right thing even if it kills you. Early Navy years forged a leader tempered by humility and a fierce protective instinct.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” — Joshua 1:9

This was his war cry, unspoken but understood.

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The Battle That Defined Him

The morning of October 25, 1944, was brutal. The American "Taffy 3" task unit, made up mostly of escort carriers and destroyers, faced the formidable Imperial Japanese Navy’s Center Force, including battleships Yamato and Musashi. The odds? Lopsided beyond reason.

Evans commanded the Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413), a destroyer escort barely designed to bluff, let alone engage battleships. But bluff he would—with torpedoes, gunfire, and sheer nerve.

When the Japanese cruiser Chōkai closed in, Evans ordered a daring charge. He drove straight at the enemy, firing torpedoes and guns, drawing their fire away from vulnerable escort carriers. His ship, nicknamed the “destroyer escort that fought like a battleship,” kept slashing through the enemy’s ranks.

Smoke, fire, and steel were everywhere. The Samuel B. Roberts took crippling damage. Men fell. Evans sustained wounds but refused to abandon his post. At one point, the Roberts was dead in the water, riddled by enemy shells.

“A good commander leads from the front. That’s how you win.” — Ernest E. Evans, as remembered by survivors¹

Evans’s aggressive tactics confused the Japanese, buying critical time for the carriers to escape. His relentless spirit turned the tide in one of the most desperate naval battles of World War II.

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Medal of Honor: Blood and Glory

Ernest E. Evans paid the highest price for that day’s heroism. Mortally wounded, he died aboard his ship as it sank. His sacrifice was not forgotten. Posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, Evans’s citation reads:

“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty... With skill, daring, and determination, Commander Evans attacked a vastly superior enemy force... He gallantly gave his life in defense of his country.”²

Comrades recall a leader who ‘never flinched under fire’ and whose courage became a beacon when all seemed lost. Admiral Nimitz called the battle "one of the most remarkable acts of valor in naval history." The Samuel B. Roberts’ sacrifice became legend, embodied by Evans’s fierce stewardship.

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Legacy Carved in Steel and Spirit

Evans’s life and death remind us of the true cost of freedom. Not in broad strokes or vague ideals, but in a man who stood between annihilation and survival. His story tells us courage is not the absence of fear—it is moving through it, tethered to something greater.

His faith, steel will, and selflessness endure. Veterans see in Evans a mirror—wounded, yet unbroken. Civilians find a stark lesson on what real sacrifice demands. He fought the darkness and gave his light so others might see.

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13

In every scar, in every act of courage, Evans’s legacy lives. Not bound by time, but by the eternal call to serve, protect, and prevail—no matter the cost.

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He charged into hell not because he sought glory, but because he knew that freedom cost blood. May we honor him by carrying that truth forward—with solemn hearts and unwavering resolve.

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Sources

¹ Naval History and Heritage Command — “Destroyer Escort USS Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413) Action Report” ² U.S. Congress, Medal of Honor Citation for Commander Ernest E. Evans, 1944

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