The Battle of Leyte Gulf was an extraordinary event for many reasons. It was the final great naval battle in World War II, in which the U.S. Navy defeated the Imperial Japanese Navy so soundly that the IJN was never able to challenge the U.S. with a fleet action ever again. It saw the last battleship-to-battleship action of World War II, and probably for all time. It was the largest naval battle in history, in terms of size of the area involved, number of ships involved, size of the combatants involved (including the largest battleships ever built), and number of people involved. How ironic that the Battle off Samar, the pivotal engagement in entire set of events labeled the Battle of Leyte Gulf, was not fought between the behemoths that were constructed for just such a clash (the Japanese Yamato class battleships vs. the American Iowa and South Dakota class battleships), pitting the still-formidable remnants of the Japanese surface fleet against a U.S. Navy that had grown into largest navy that ever sailed, and probably will ever sail, the oceans. Instead, the four Japanese battleships and eight heavy cruisers, accompanied by eleven destroyers, were confronted—and driven off—by a pitifully small American force of three destroyers and four even-smaller destroyer escorts.
For Crew and Country tells the story of one of those destroyer escorts, the USS Samuel B. Roberts, the “destroyer escort that fought like a battleship,” and the only destroyer escort sunk by enemy fire in World War II. Author John Wukovits tells in detail the six-month life of the Roberts, from its commissioning to its heroic sinking, but more importantly, also tells of many of the crew that manned the Roberts, from their childhood to the first time they laid eyes on their ship when it was being built in a Houston shipyard, and continues on to tell what happened to the survivors and the family and friends of those who gave their lives for their country. By focusing on one ship, Wukovits demonstrates why the Roberts was able to fight so efficiently and so well. The greatest credit goes to the ship’s captain, who not only drilled his crew ceaselessly, but also knew how to get his men to come together, to feel like a close-knit family. But credit also goes to many of the men under him, the men who supervised the guns, the engines, the electronic equipment, who also drilled their crews to be the best they could possibly be, so that when a tiny destroyer escort—which was designed to protect against aircraft and submarines, period—found itself in a surface action it was never designed for, their superb training and attitude allowed them to help turn back a foe of impossible, overwhelming size.