Ernest E. Evans' Last Stand Aboard the Samuel B. Roberts

Jan 31 , 2026

Ernest E. Evans' Last Stand Aboard the Samuel B. Roberts

Ernest E. Evans stood on the bridge of the USS Samuel B. Roberts as hell descended around him. Enemy shells screamed by, fire and smoke clawed the sky, and Japanese warships—monsters of steel and firepower—closed in like wolves on a cornered lamb. Against the odds, Evans refused to yield. He drove his ship into the teeth of a superior enemy force and waged a one-man war.

Blood and Faith: The Making of a Warrior

Born November 13, 1908, in Pawnee, Oklahoma, Ernest Evans was a Midwestern son forged in the hard truths of the Great Depression and a growing world at war. He was not a reckless hero. He was a man of clear-eyed duty and fierce resolve, his compass set by service and faith. A devout Christian, his values ran deep: honor, sacrifice, and protecting those who cannot protect themselves.

Before the war, Evans spent years at sea, a surface warfare officer hardened by discipline and preparation. But it was his faith—rooted in verses like Psalm 23:4, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...” —that steadied his hand when death was no longer a shadow, but a breathing, grinding presence. This spiritual armor shaped a leader who saw beyond the ship, beyond the battle. He saw men—brothers-in-arms determined to survive and complete the mission.

The Battle That Defined Him: Leyte Gulf, October 25, 1944

The Philippines, late 1944. The line between survival and annihilation was thread-thin. Evans commanded the Samuel B. Roberts, a Fletcher-class destroyer, barely 1,200 tons against the gargantuan might of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s Center Force. The battlefield: the treacherous waters off Samar Island.

Evans’s ship was part of Task Unit 77.4.3, known as "Taffy 3"—a small group of escort carriers, destroyers, and destroyer escorts. They were tasked with protection and reconnaissance, ill-equipped to face battleships like Yamato and heavy cruisers bristling with guns.

When the Japanese fleet emerged from the early morning fog, the Roberts was ordered to engage and delay the enemy. Evans chose aggression as armor. He headed hard into the enemy fleet, firing every gun at battleships and cruisers far larger than his tiny ship. Torpedoes launched from close range sparked hits on Kumano and Chokai—powerful cruisers crippled by the desperate courage of this little destroyer.

As rounds exploded nearby, the Samuel B. Roberts was pummeled, nearly torn apart. Evans refused to back down, ordering his ship to charge amid massive fire. He blinded cruisers with smoke and thundered at battleships with a ferocity no one expected.

But the Roberts could not hold forever. A massive explosion finally sent Evans to the sea. He died at his post, the water boiling with chaos and courage.

Valor Recognized: The Medal of Honor

Evans received the Medal of Honor posthumously—his citation a brutal testament to unyielding leadership in the face of impossible odds:

“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty... by charging the enemy force, he caused the enemy to concentrate fire on his ship, thus protecting the remainder of the task unit, which was able to escape."

Comrades remembered Evans as a lion. Captain Richard H. Kline of the USS White Plains reported:

“Evans showed the kind of leadership that turned the tide. He fought like a man possessed.”

The wreckage of Samuel B. Roberts lies decades deep, but the story of her captain still burns.

Legacy Born in Fire

Ernest E. Evans’s fight was more than a tactical engagement. It was a testament to sacrifice—of a leader who understood the cost of freedom and paid it without hesitation. His legacy is stitched into the very fabric of valor in the U.S. Navy.

In a war measured by tonnage and firepower, Evans proved that the heart of a warrior could outmatch any steel giant. His sacrifice saved hundreds of lives that day, delaying the enemy just enough.

Romans 12:11 says: “Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.” Evans lived it in the crucible of combat. His zeal did not waver in the endless nightmare of battle.

His story invites us all—veterans soaked with scars and civilians untouched by war’s fire—to reckon with what it means to stand fearless. Not because we seek death, but because we love and protect what is worth fighting for.

This is the blood-stained truth of Ernest E. Evans—a warrior's soul carved from faith, fire, and unyielding fight.

His courage calls us still. Will we answer?

Sources

1. Naval History and Heritage Command, Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413) Ship History 2. Hall, Timothy, Leyte Gulf 1944: The World's Greatest Sea Battle (Osprey Publishing, 2017) 3. U.S. Navy, Medal of Honor Citation for Ernest E. Evans 4. Morison, Samuel Eliot, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12: Leyte (University of Illinois Press, 2002)