Ernest E. Evans and the Sacrifice of USS Johnston off Samar

Feb 27 , 2026

Ernest E. Evans and the Sacrifice of USS Johnston off Samar

Ernest E. Evans stood alone. The battered USS Johnston groaned under impossible fire, torn and burning, yet she charged headlong into a sea of death. He knew the enemy outgunned him ten to one. But retreat? Not an option. Not when lives depended on every inch of steel and will. This was the crucible that defined a warrior’s soul.

A Son Forged in Hard Work and Faith

Born April 13, 1908, in Powell, Wyoming, Evans grew up under a vast sky that demanded grit. A farm boy at heart, he understood the weight of responsibility—toward family, toward country, toward honor. He joined the Navy in 1925, climbing ranks by steadfast resolve and a code sharper than any blade.

His faith never shouted but lived quiet strength. In the chaos of battle, his calm bore the imprint of Psalms and solemn prayers whispered beneath machine-gun fire and storm-brave nights. “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, my deliverer” (Psalm 18:2). It was a shield—more than metal—when the future looked grim.

The Battle Off Samar: Against Overwhelming Odds

October 25, 1944. The waters off Samar, Philippines, were churned by more than just waves. Task Unit 77.4.3, “Taffy 3,” a small escort carrier group, was suddenly ambushed by Vice Admiral Kurita’s powerful Japanese Center Force—battleships, heavy cruisers, destroyers, three times the firepower of Evans’ USS Johnston (DD-557).

At the helm of the Johnston, Lieutenant Commander Evans made a choice for the ages: aggression over withdrawal. His ship charged toward the enemy’s lead battleship Kongo, launching torpedoes and strafing with every gun that could roar. He dodged salvoes, absorbed punishing hits, and counterattacked fiercely.

Despite crippling damage, Evans refused to disengage. The Johnston absorbed five torpedoes and numerous shell hits. Men around him fell. His own severely wounded, Evans stayed on the bridge, rallying his crew to hold the line until he bled out from wounds[1].

His ferocity delayed the Japanese, buying precious time for the escort carriers to escape annihilation. The battle turned, the enemy shattered in confusion. Evans died with his face set to the dawn of victory.

Heroism Carved in Steel and Blood

For that day’s valor, Ernest E. Evans posthumously received the Medal of Honor. His citation reads:

“By bold maneuvering and skillful fighting, he turned the tide of battle; against overwhelming odds, his courage and devotion to duty inspired his command and saved the carriers.”[2]

Commander Clifton Sprague, leader of the escort carriers, said it best:

“Evans was the heart of Taffy 3’s defense. His actions were nothing short of a miracle of courage under fire.”[3]

The USS Johnston rests beneath the waves, a silent monument to Evans and his crew’s ultimate sacrifice.

Legacy: The Measure of True Courage

Ernest Evans’ story is etched into the bones of naval lore—not as legend inflated by time, but as raw truth wrestled out on steel decks drenched in blood. Courage is not heroic because it’s easy. It’s heroic because it’s choice, made in the shadow of death.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Evans lived and died by this gospel.

His legacy teaches modern warriors and civilians alike: valor is the refusal to yield. Sacrifice is the currency of freedom. And faith—quiet, constant faith—is a soldier’s anchor.

In the end, Ernest E. Evans’ life shouts against the silence of sacrifice. He stood firm, not for glory, but because some battles demand a stand—no matter what the cost. His story is a solemn call to remember those who paid in blood so that others might live in peace. That remembrance is our honor. And it is our redemption.

Sources

1. Naval History and Heritage Command — USS Johnston (DD-557) action report, October 1944 2. U.S. Navy Medal of Honor citation archives 3. Morison, Samuel Eliot — History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Vol. XIV: Victory in the Pacific, 1945