Ernest E. Evans and the Sacrifice of USS Samuel B. Roberts

Feb 26 , 2026

Ernest E. Evans and the Sacrifice of USS Samuel B. Roberts

Ernest E. Evans stood on the bridge of USS Samuel B. Roberts, eyes burning through the haze of smoke and tracer fire. The Japanese fleet loomed, monstrous steel dragons closing like death itself. He gripped the wheel and shouted orders as shells tore through the sky and men fell around him. Outnumbered, outgunned, but never outmatched—he chose to fight until the last breath.

A Warrior Born of the Heartland

Born April 13, 1908, in Pawnee, Oklahoma, Ernest Edwin Evans was carved from the rugged soil of a simpler, tougher America. Raised in small-town values, his character was forged on the anvil of duty and faith. The world would learn him as a man of steel resolve, but those who knew him spoke first of his quiet kindness and unshakeable belief in a righteous cause.

Faith was his compass. A deeply devout Christian, Evans lived by the code of service before self, carrying the weight of others like a shepherd—never reckless, always deliberate. His Navy career, spanning over 25 years, was more than service; it was calling and sacrifice blended in one.

The Battle That Defined Him

October 25, 1944—Leyte Gulf, the greatest naval battle in history. Evans commanded the USS Samuel B. Roberts, a slender Fletcher-class destroyer, tasked with protecting escort carriers. The enemy force? The Japanese Center Force, a tsunami of battleships, cruisers, and destroyers—far superior in firepower.

Most would have fled. Evans charged.

With squadron leader Rear Admiral Clifton Sprague’s Taffy 3, Evans launched into the maelstrom. The Roberts steamed flat-out, closing within 4,000 yards of the enemy’s massive battleships and cruisers. He ordered an aggressive torpedo attack against the heavy cruiser Chikuma, scoring multiple hits that changed the tide of the battle.

His ship’s 5-inch guns hammered relentlessly, despite severe damage and crew casualties inflicted by enemy fire. The Roberts absorbed hit after hit—shells, fire, flooding—her torpedo tubes wrecked, her steering compromised. But Evans did not waver.

At one point, Evans famously ordered the helm "full right," putting the Roberts directly in harm’s path to distract and disrupt enemy firing patterns.

The fight lasted hours. The destroyer was critically wounded, flooding beyond control. Evans, wounded himself, refused to leave his post.

The Roberts sank—a gunship turned coffin.

Ernest E. Evans went down with his ship, a martyr of valor.

Recognition in Blood and Bronze

Posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty,” Evans exemplified warrior leadership. His citation recounts “heroic actions in the face of overwhelming enemy superiority,” frustrating the Japanese attack and protecting vital escort carriers.

Admiral Sprague later reflected:

“It was the kind of leadership that inspired men to fight like demons against impossible odds.”[¹]

Veterans who survived speak of Evans’ presence as a beacon amid chaos, holding the line by sheer force of will. His name lives in naval lore, a symbol of sacrifice where the price was life itself.

Legacy Carved in Sacrifice and Faith

Evans’ story is not a tale of glory, but of relentless duty—a man choosing courage over comfort, selflessness over survival.

His legacy transcends historical footnotes. It speaks to every veteran who’s faced impossible odds and stood their ground. It challenges us to consider what it truly means to lead, to sacrifice, to endure.

In the Book of John, Jesus says:

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

Evans embodied that love—flawed, human, unbreakable. His scars run deep in the fabric of our Navy. His fight reminds us that courage isn’t the absence of fear, but action despite it.

For civilians and warriors alike, Ernest E. Evans offers a glimpse into the crucible of combat and the redemption forged through sacrifice. He reminds us that some battles are worth every cost, that some men carry the world’s safety on shoulders broad enough to bear it.

He died so others might live. That is honor. That is legacy.

Sources

1. Naval History and Heritage Command, “Medal of Honor: Ernest E. Evans” 2. Morison, Samuel Eliot. History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Vol. 12: Leyte (Little, Brown and Company, 1958) 3. USS Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413) Association Archives