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

Feb 13 , 2026

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

Flames licked the night sky. USS Samuel B. Roberts shuddered under wave after wave of shellfire. Captain Ernest Edwin Evans gripped the wheel like his life depended on it—because it did. His ship, a 1,200-ton destroyer escort, faced down the prowling might of a Japanese battleship group far beyond its weight class.

This was no ordinary fight. This was war unmasked—savage, merciless, desperate.

Roots in the Heartland and a Fighting Faith

Ernest E. Evans was born on December 13, 1908, in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Raised with rugged grit by a farming family, he learned early that hard work bore fruit—a lesson etched in sweat and soil.

The Navy called to him like a drumbeat, a summons to a larger mission. He commissioned through the Naval Academy in 1926, but it was war that would forge him into legend.

Faith steadied Evans through the chaos. His ship’s log and letters reveal a man who found purpose beyond the fight—trust in divine providence. It was not blind luck that saw Samuel B. Roberts dive into battle with fearless resolve; it was a soldier’s prayer rooted deep in his soul.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." — Joshua 1:9

The Battle That Defined Him: Samar, October 25, 1944

The Leyte Gulf campaign—the largest naval engagement of World War II. Amidst this colossal clash, Evans’ Samuel B. Roberts, barely a footnote by design, sailed headlong into hell.

His orders seemed made of iron and steel: Delay the Japanese Center Force at all costs.

Facing a force of battleships, cruisers, and destroyers, many times their firepower, Evans made a split-second decision no man should have to make. He ordered his small ship into the teeth of impossible odds.

Evans maneuvered Samuel B. Roberts closer than any destroyer escort should dare, trading salvo for salvo with the Yamato-class Kongō, heavy cruisers, and a swarm of destroyers.

His gunners punched holes in the enemy, making the ship dance with furious, reckless precision. Singular focus. No retreat. No surrender.

He ordered torpedoes launched point-blank, forcing the enemy to divert fire. In those moments, Samuel B. Roberts became a shield—grinding the Japanese assault and buying precious time for the American escort carriers and destroyer units at Samar. He carried the fight so others might survive.

Minutes into the battle, Samuel B. Roberts was mortally wounded. Explosions shredded the ship; fires raged across the decks. But Evans fought on until the ship succumbed—was scuttled to save her crew—and went down with her.

He paid the ultimate price to hold the line.

Recognition in the Wake of Sacrifice

The Navy would posthumously award Ernest Evans the Medal of Honor—the highest American military decoration—declaring his actions “above and beyond the call of duty.” The citation read in part:

“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty… by his unrelenting attack and extraordinary courage, he turned back the Japanese force, thereby saving the American escort carriers from destruction.”

His courage resonated not just with brass and paperwork, but with those who fought by his side.

Vice Admiral Clifton Sprague called his leadership “a fine example of guts and spirit.” Survivors praised Evans’ willingness to risk everything, calling his stand “the stuff of legends.”

The Samuel B. Roberts’ sacrifice became a beacon for naval grit and unyielding service.

Legacy Etched in Steel and Spirit

Ernest Evans’ stand at Samar is more than history. It is a testament to the warrior’s code—scarred, steadfast, and sacrificial.

He showed what leadership looks like when the sea is aflame and death circles close. No surrender, no hesitation. Only will sharpened by faith and duty.

The lessons reverberate through every generation of combat veteran: Courage is rarely loud. It is the quiet, unrelenting refusal to yield.

And there is redemption in sacrifice—not in glory for its own sake but because through that sacrifice, others live.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13

Ernest Edwin Evans died a hero, but his story lives as a challenge—to own the scars, to carry the burden, and to lead when the night is darkest.

For every veteran who has faced down the abyss, and every civilian struggling to understand that shadow, Evans’ legacy shines like beacon-fire.

There is honor in the fight. Purpose in the pain. Legacy in the blood-soaked sands of battle.

Sources

1. Naval History and Heritage Command, Medal of Honor Citation for Ernest E. Evans 2. Morison, Samuel Eliot, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II (Vol. XII: Leyte) 3. Sprague, Clifton A., quoted in Hornfischer, James D., The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors 4. Official US Navy Battle Reports, October 1944, Leyte Gulf Campaign