Ernest E. Evans and the last stand of Samuel B. Roberts at Leyte Gulf

Jan 26 , 2026

Ernest E. Evans and the last stand of Samuel B. Roberts at Leyte Gulf

Ernest E. Evans stood on the bridge of USS Samuel B. Roberts. Around him, chaos reigned: Japanese cruisers and battleships thundered, their guns blazing like judgement day. His ship, a lone destroyer escort, was outgunned, outmatched, and outnumbered. But Evans didn’t flinch. He charged headfirst into the inferno, throwing wrenches into the enemy’s plan with unrelenting fury. He made a stand the world never forgot.

The Roots of a Warrior

Born in 1908, in a small town in Kansas, Ernest Evans carried more than the weight of his uniform. He carried faith. Raised in a devout household, his moral compass was forged by scripture and grit alike. “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21) This wasn’t abstract for Evans. It was the guide that shaped every decision on and off the ship.

Joining the Navy in 1932, Evans embodied duty stripped of fantasy. There were no illusions about war. There was honor, sacrifice, and relentless preparation. His men respected his unvarnished honesty and steady leadership. In a war that devoured lives without remorse, Evans' faith was his fortress, his men’s a lighthouse amidst hellfire.

The Battle That Defined Him

October 25, 1944. The Philippines. The Samuel B. Roberts and her crew found themselves guarding a convoy near Leyte Gulf. The Japanese Center Force, under Admiral Kurita, had slipped through the San Bernardino Strait with cruisers, battleships, and destroyers numbering over a dozen—and they were hunting.

Evans’ ship weighed just 1,100 tons. The enemy’s heavy cruisers and battleships dwarfed the Roberts. Evans ordered battle stations. He had one mission: stop the Japanese at all costs.

His orders were simple. Fight like hell.

He steamed into the enemy column with reckless precision, firing torpedoes and dodging salvoes. The Roberts launched a near-suicidal attack to buy time for the escort carriers behind them. Evans ignored the warnings of superior firepower. His ship took direct hits, flaming and listing, yet he pressed forward. The roar of guns was deafening, the sky filled with smoke and flying debris.

“He did more in 15 minutes than most men accomplish in a lifetime.” — Captain T.S. Wilkinson, Commander of Task Unit 77.4.3, Taffy 3[^1]

By the time the Samuel B. Roberts sank, Evans had personally directed torpedo attacks that crippled two Japanese heavy cruisers. His last order was to abandon ship only after ensuring the convoy was safe. When his ship finally went down, Evans was in the water, wounded but alive, refusing rescue until all his men were saved.

Honors Beyond Measure

Evans was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.” His citation tells it starkly:

“Ensured the destruction of one heavy cruiser and damage to others, though hopelessly outgunned... With complete disregard for his own safety, he charged into the enemy line...”

His courage that day bluntly altered the course of the battle. The Japanese withdrew, beaten by tenacity and unbreakable will. Evans’ men remembered him as a leader who faced death with defiance.

Lieutenant Commander Evans’ actions inspired officers and sailors alike under the banner of Taffy 3. Survivors recounted how Evans’ sheer determination kindled a spirit of resistance that ruled out surrender or retreat.

Legacy Etched in Steel and Blood

Captain Ernest E. Evans’ story is not just a tale of naval heroism. It’s a testament to faith in the face of annihilation, to the resolve that turns the tide when all seems lost. His sacrifice was a beacon to warriors who came after him, a reminder that leadership is measured not in comfort but in the furnace of battle.

The USS Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413), dubbed the “destroyer escort that fought like a battleship,” remains a symbol of tenacity. Evans’ example presses upon us all: courage is not the absence of fear, but the refusal to submit to it.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116:15) Ernest Evans paid that price so others might live.

His scars run deep in the waters of Leyte Gulf. His legacy—etched in the hearts of veterans who understand the price of sacrifice—will never fade. When the world asks what valor looks like, the answer is here: a destroyer escort captain, standing utterly alone against a fleet, willing to give everything so America’s sons and daughters might see home again.

Sources

[^1]: Naval History and Heritage Command, Medal of Honor Citation, Ernest E. Evans [^2]: Hornfischer, James D., The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors [^3]: Morison, Samuel Eliot, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II: Leyte, June 1944 – January 1945