Ernest E. Evans' Last Fight Aboard the USS Johnston at Leyte Gulf

Dec 25 , 2025

Ernest E. Evans' Last Fight Aboard the USS Johnston at Leyte Gulf

Ernest E. Evans stood on the bridge of the USS Johnston, eyes burning through the smoky haze of dawn, knowing full well his ship was the smallest chink in an iron Japanese formation. No retreat. No surrender. Just fight.

Background & Faith

Born November 13, 1908, in Pawnee, Oklahoma, Ernest Evans carved his life from a simple, steady life into a crucible of steel and fire.[^1] Commissioned as a naval officer in the 1930s, he was tempered by the slow grind of peacetime training and the looming shadow of war. His faith was quiet but unwavering—an anchor in the chaos.

Evans lived by a solemn code: Duty before self. Protect your men. Sacrifice what you must. He carried the weight of John 15:13 in his heart—“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” A man who knew the cost before the battle even began.

The Battle That Defined Him

October 25, 1944. The waters off Samar, Leyte Gulf. The USS Johnston, a Fletcher-class destroyer, barely fit to spar with the hulking Japanese Center Force. Overwhelming odds. Enemy battleships more numerous than stars in the fading sky.

Evans faced a nightmare—and charged headlong.

His ship was part of “Taffy 3,” a small escort carrier group caught flat-footed before Admiral Kurita’s fleet. The Japanese deployed battleships Yamato, Nagato, and cruisers bristling with firepower. Evans had a single mission: stop them.

With 18 six-inch guns and four five-inchers, the Johnston could only whisper against their thunder.

But Evans screamed. Ordered all engines ahead flank. Plunged into the enemy’s battleship line.

“Stay with me,” his voice commanded. His destroyer delivered a curtain of torpedoes and gunfire, reckless, nearly suicidal. He maneuvered between the giant ships, drawing their ire, breaking their focus.

Eight torpedoes launched. Direct hits on heavy enemy battleships recorded. Main guns hammered from point-blank range.

Every turn, a dance with death.

His ship took hit after hit—engine room flooded, critical damage piling faster than men could patch. But Evans kept his vessel fighting, shielding vulnerable carriers behind.

His ship was bleeding, his crew battered.

At noon, a final kamikaze hit sealed his fate. The Johnston sank, but not before turning back the tide.

Evans went down with his ship; his body never recovered.[^2]

Recognition

Congress awarded Ernest E. Evans the Medal of Honor posthumously for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty.[^3]

His citation reads:

“For extraordinary heroism and conspicuous intrepidity in action as Commanding Officer of the USS Johnston .... despite being outnumbered and outgunned, he plunged into the enemy, delivering a deadly torpedo attack that disrupted enemy operations and helped save the landing forces on Leyte.”

Vice Admiral Clifton Sprague, who commanded “Taffy 3,” called Evans’ leadership the decisive factor in that clash, saying:

“His courage and determination inspired all the ships of the task unit to fight with the ferocity and spirit of men whose lives were on the line.”[^4]

Few men have turned the tide of battle with sheer grit. Fewer still gave everything.

Legacy & Lessons

Ernest E. Evans embodies the raw truth of combat—no glory without blood, no victory without sacrifice.

His final fight echoes like a baptism by fire, a testament to a man who chose to confront certain death to protect others.

This is what leadership looks like when stripped to bone.

His story is not just a sailor’s tale; it is a lesson in courage against impossible odds.

As Philippians 3:14 commands, “I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” Evans pressed on—his compass fixed on honor, faith, and brotherhood.

The legacy of Ernest E. Evans burns on. Not in monuments or medals alone, but in every veteran who stands ready when the world calls. His sacrifice is a voice in the wilderness of war, a beacon for those who've walked through the valley of death.

We owe him more than memory—we owe him action.

[^1]: Naval History and Heritage Command, Destroyer USS Johnston (DD-557), Commanding Officers’ Registry [^2]: Morison, Samuel Eliot, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Vol. 12: Leyte (Little, Brown, 1958) [^3]: U.S. Congressional Medal of Honor citations, Ernest E. Evans [^4]: Sprague, Clifton “Ziggy,” Taffy III at Leyte Gulf (Naval Institute Press, 1988)