Ernest E. Evans and USS Johnston's Last Charge at Samar

Jan 23 , 2026

Ernest E. Evans and USS Johnston's Last Charge at Samar

Ernest E. Evans stood on the bridge of his destroyer, USS Johnston, as the Japanese fleet loomed like a steel leviathan on the horizon. The roar of battle was deafening, the night thick with gunfire and smoke. Against odds that would crush lesser men, Evans charged straight into hell—alone and defiant. This was no mere fight. It was a war for survival. And he would not back down.

Raised on Grit and Grace

Ernest Edwin Evans was born in 1908 in Pawnee, Oklahoma. He grew up with the steady rhythm of small-town America—hard work, respect for country, and a quiet but unshakable faith. Evans was a man forged in the crucible of discipline. The Naval Academy at Annapolis sharpened this steel, but it was his personal code that set him apart: lead from the front, protect your own, and above all, serve with honor.

His faith was not loud. It was steady, like the hands on a compass. Scripture grounded him: “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) That promise echoed in his every command.

The Battle That Defined Him

October 25, 1944. The Battle off Samar—a desperate struggle in the Leyte Gulf waters. Evans commanded USS Johnston (DD-557), a Fletcher-class destroyer barely 2,100 tons, outmatched by Japanese battleships and cruisers roaring with firepower ten times their weight. The Japanese Center Force, led by Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita, aimed to crush the vulnerable American escort carriers and their screening destroyers.

Evans faced a nightmare scenario. His forces were smaller, slower, and outgunned. But he unleashed hell anyway. At point-blank range, Johnston charged the enemy’s battleships, dodging shells the size of barrels, firing torpedoes that screamed through the night.

Twice, Johnston let loose her torpedo salvo. Evans ordered his men to close in and trust their guns. Their determined aggression confused and delayed the Japanese so badly that larger American forces could regroup and strike back.

Evans took a direct hit from enemy shells. The bridge exploded. Despite severe wounds, he refused medical treatment, determined to steer the battered ship forward until the end. The Johnston sank with most of her crew, the captain last seen manning the wheel. His courage cost him his life, but saved countless others.

Recognition Carved in Valor

Ernest E. Evans posthumously received the Medal of Honor for his “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.” His citation details how, “in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds,” he “boldly charged the enemy force... inflicting severe damage upon superior enemy units.”[1]

Vice Admiral Clifton Sprague, commander of the escort carrier task unit Taffy 3, said of Evans:

“His example was an inspiration to every man in that desperate fight. Evans was the steel backbone of that battalion, holding the line when none thought possible.”[2]

His bravery became a rallying cry for naval forces in the Pacific. The Johnston’s actions delayed and disrupted one of the largest warships in history, buying precious time for the American forces and turning the tide.

A Lasting Testament to Sacrifice

Ernest E. Evans did not fight for medals or glory. He fought because it was right. Every scar etched on his name tells a story of sacrifice, every life saved a legacy of courage. Like many veterans who walked through hell, he found purpose in the pain, a calling beyond death.

His story challenges us today—beyond the flag-waving—to see the cost paid by those who don the uniform. What does it mean to face annihilation and still charge forward? And how do we honor that spirit if not by living with integrity and never forgetting?

“There is no greater love than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) Evans lived this scripture on a blazing sea and left behind a legacy that whispers in every crack of thunder on the battlefield.

His name is carved forever on the tablets of valor, but more than that—he lives in the hearts of warriors who understand that true leadership demands sacrifice, and true sacrifice demands faith.

Sources

1. Naval History and Heritage Command, Medal of Honor Citation for Ernest E. Evans 2. Sprague, Clifton, History of Taffy 3 in Leyte Gulf, Naval War College Review