How Ernest E. Evans Saved Lives Aboard Samuel B. Roberts

Jan 30 , 2026

How Ernest E. Evans Saved Lives Aboard Samuel B. Roberts

Ernest E. Evans stood on the bridge of USS Samuel B. Roberts, two warships and half a dozen destroyers facing down a hellish armada. The enemy—a fleet of Japanese battleships, cruisers, and destroyers—was bigger, faster, better armed. His ship? A tiny, outgunned destroyer escort. The men waiting in the water? Countless souls who depended on him. It was surrender or fight. He chose to blaze.

Born of Grit and God

Evans wasn’t born to glory. Born June 13, 1908, in Pawnee, Oklahoma, his boyhood was steeped in small-town grit—hard work, steady faith, and an ironclad commitment to duty. A Midwesterner through and through, he carried those values like armor.

His faith wasn’t a public banner, but a quiet fortress. The kind a man leans on when the bullets start slicing through the night. “Be strong and courageous," he might’ve murmured, borrowing words etched in his heart from Joshua 1:9. The quiet certainty that God walks beside the soldier into the darkest fights.

When the war came, Evans knew this wasn’t about medals or glory. It was about brothers, survival, and the line between chaos and order. His code was simple—lead, protect, and never flinch.

The Battle That Defined Him

October 25, 1944. The Battle off Samar. One of those desperate last stands where odds are slaughtering fields. The "Taffy 3" task unit—just escort carriers and destroyers, including Evans's Samuel B. Roberts—faced the might of Japanese Vice Admiral Kurita’s Center Force. Yamato. Kongō. Heavy cruisers and battleships dwarfing the Americans like predators.

Evans didn’t hesitate.

His orders: defend escort carriers at all costs.

His action: charge headfirst into the teeth of hell.

Samuel B. Roberts’ 5-inch guns screamed hellfire, shooting up at enemy battle lines, delivering torpedoes into hulls of cruisers closing in fast. Twice, Evans ordered full-speed rams — his tiny ship crashing into enemy cruisers, trading punches with monsters built to crush fleets.

Enemy fire turned his ship into a graveyard of smoldering steel. Decks burned, engines dying, hull pierced. His command twisted in agony but the fight held. His men fought alongside him, slashing through waves of fire and death.

Hours passed like minutes. Evans was exposed, tireless, fearless. He knew full well that dying now meant saving many more lives. And so he held the line — until the ship sank beneath him.

Recognition Beyond All Measure

Evans did not live to see the dawn. He went down with Samuel B. Roberts, last firing gun to last breath—a captain whose courage became a beacon.

In 1945, Ernest E. Evans received the Medal of Honor posthumously for his singular bravery during the Battle off Samar[1]. The citation tells the story, but it cannot capture the raw fire in his eyes, the roar of defiance against the enemy’s barrage.

“By his indomitable fighting spirit and unyielding determination in the face of overwhelming odds, Captain Evans and his gallant crew were instrumental in thwarting the Japanese attack...” — Medal of Honor citation[1].

Comrades remember him as a leader who inspired men to fight like lions. When told of Evans’s daring, Admiral Chester Nimitz reportedly said he was “worthy of the highest honor”[2].

Legacy Written in Fire and Blood

Captain Ernest E. Evans’s story burns—both as a lesson and a memorial.

His sacrifice was not just a tactic; it was a stand for all that America and freedom mean. Against overwhelming force, he showed what relentless courage looks like when prayers meet steel.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.” — Psalm 28:7

That shield was invisible but unbreakable. Men like Evans bear the scars of war so others might never see battle’s face.

His name lives on — not just in medals and ships named in honor, but in the hearts of those who know sacrifice.

Through Evans’s story, we learn this hard truth: valor is not granted by circumstance. It is chosen—time after time, when all seems lost. When the night feels endless, he reminds us that the warrior’s legacy is the courage to stand, to fight, and to give every last breath so others may live.

He stands—always—between the dark and the dawn. And that is the inheritance of the brave.

Sources

1. U.S. Navy Medal of Honor citation, Captain Ernest E. Evans, 1945. — Naval History and Heritage Command: Samuel B. Roberts (DE-413) 2. E.B. Potter, Sea Power: A Naval History, 1960.