Which inaccurate plotline in the show do you wish they'd kept in tune with the actual history?
Personally, I really loved the Ben/Sackett "weird uncle" dynamic. Ben had very few positive influences during his arc, and while Sackett occasionally delivered some tough love, he was much kinder than GW, and also added fun comic relief to the tenser moments. His scenes with Ben and Caleb in S2 were some of my favorites.
Although I get why he was axed -- Sackett was essentially fired IRL, and replaced by Ben -- they'd already altered his role in the show, so I would've been happy to see him survive like his historical counterpart.
Rather than paraphrase, I'm going to be lazy and just give you all his wiki, if you're curious for more:
My parents read me Louis Lamore Sackett books when I was growing up and those books still stay with me. They taught me to never back down, to fight for what is right and to never compromise my beliefs. They also taught me to love the wild country, to stop and appreciate what nature has given me. Those books and those wild men and women in them taught me how important history is, how to fight smart and taught me to always put family first. I highly recommend reading the Sackett books, they are beautiful and still lovely to this day.
I have a lot of feelings about Caleb and his self worth even before he was captured by Simcoe. Please enjoy Sackett telling Caleb he’s a good man and that loving Ben isnt a bad thing.
Caleb was a practical man. He had hopes and dreams and fantasies just like anyone else, but he’d accepted that that was where they would stay. The reality he lived in would never allow him to have the things he truly wanted so he settled and accepted and moved on.
He shouldn’t have even wanted the things he did. They weren't good or moral, they weren’t what Good Men wanted. They weren’t the kinds of things men like Ben or Washington wanted.
Sometimes he wondered if that’s where his trouble with conventional morality had begun or if it was the natural conclusion of being a menace to society. Because he always had been a menace. Every adult who’d spent more than a few minutes with him when he was a kid had told him so. He didn’t remember caring what they thought then and he certainly didn’t care what they thought now.
Having that loose set of morals came in handy when there was dirty work to be doing. He didn’t have a problem with stealing from those who could spare it even if it broke Washington’s precious rules of war. He didn’t have a problem with roughing up a captured officer just a little. He didn’t see the glory in those rules who had just been made up one day and everyone had agreed to follow them, not when they didn’t make sense.
So Caleb accepted that when dirty work needed doing it fell to him and he didn’t resent it for even a second.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll go. I’m the expendable one with the loose morals.”
Ben laughed a little and rolled his eyes, shaking his head but smiling. Caleb watched him go for just a second before he turned to Sackett who had not laughed. Which wasn’t in itself odd, but usually the man at least cracked a smile at Caleb’s jokes. He was one of the few people in camp who actually appreciated Caleb’s humor.
Instead he was frowning at Caleb.
“What?” Caleb asked with a shrug. Maybe Sackett was worried about the mission. They seemed to be the only things that Sackett cared about. “I can handle it.”
“I am aware.” Sackett turned away and back to the sheets of paper in front of him. “It is your other assessment that I disagree with.”
Caleb tried to remember what else he might have said that Sackett would have a problem with.
“Though I find it interesting that you think you have loose morals when you are one of the few men who I would say has a handle of his own moral code,” Sackett said, having obviously sensed the question in the air.
“Yeah, handle on that they’re barely there,” Caleb said with a laugh.
Sackett frowned. “Just because you don’t see the reasoning in every facet of what is considered standard morality in our society does not mean you lack for your own. I would daresay that you have a more rigid moral compass than most, because you built it to point towards your own values.”
“That doesn’t make them the right ones, jus’ means I’m stubborn,” Caleb said with a shrug.
Sackett nodded at him in conceit but the pinched look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t done arguing yet. “I hardly think that loyalty and empathy are bad traits to strive towards.”
Sackett was watching him, waiting for something to crack and Caleb thought he might just be the thing to break. It was a little too much like when his uncle used to ask him if he’d actually started the trouble he was in or if he’d just accepted the blame for one of the other kids again. Too much like acceptance, too much like being known. It made his chest hurt. He missed his uncle. “Careful, Sackett, you almost sounded like you liked me there for a second.”
With a wink he started towards the door but Sackett’s voice stopped him again.
“You underestimate yourself, Mr. Brewster, and I am not one prone to making that statement,” Sackett said, taking a moment and leaning back in his chair as he watched for Caleb’s reaction. Though it felt more like he was flexing some invisible power over Caleb to force him to listen. Caleb knew Sackett well enough that he barely had to be in the same room as someone else to be able to feel their reactions. The man was practically psychic.
“Oh yeah?” Caleb asked, as he turned around to lean up against a table and picked up the drill he’d used to practice on the bust of Georgie’s. Caleb knew it probably made him look nervous to Sackett even if it was the same tactic Caleb had used on Ben for years to distract from tense conversations he didn’t want to have. He just had to pick something up, fiddle with it for a while, and then Ben would get annoyed and grab it from his hands and whatever they’d been talking about would be forgotten.
“You’re far from expendable. Your intelligence comes from something much more important than Yale. Your skills are beyond most of this camp. And as previously stated your moral code is as sound as anyone’s.” Sackett shrugged one shoulder. “You are, in fact, the type of man other men lie to themselves about being. Which is why it is fascinating, though incorrect, for you to think that you are not to the same standard.”
Caleb’s eyes burned and he looked down at the drill as he continued to flip it just so he didn’t have to look at Sackett anymore. “No man wants to be like me and I’m a mother’s nightmare,” Caleb forced himself to say. It was true. There were days he was relieved that his mother had been gone too long to ever see her son as the man he’d grown to be.
“A mother’s nightmare maybe, but I have seen more than enough to know that you possess one skill and trait that all men pretend to have but few do.”
Caleb didn’t want to hear it anymore. He was tired and it hurt and he kept listening he might trick himself into believing it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“Men like to pretend that they are above it but love makes fools of us all. You keep your head despite it,” Sackett said with a grin. “That is a trait I would say most men would envy; a trait many men pretend to have.”
Caleb laughed and it was almost genuine that time. He was a bigger fool for love than anyone knew. Though no one knew he was in love to start with which he supposed was the key. “I’m not in love so I would say your assessment is a little off there, Sackett.”
Sackket smirked, cocked his head towards the door that Ben had walked out of not ten minutes before, and said “Aren’t you?”
Caleb forced himself to keep flipping the drill even as his fingers went numb and his blood went cold. “I don’t know what you think you kn-”
“What I know is that you joined this army for the same reason many men did. Love of one’s country, love of freedom, love of another person, they are all love. I see no problem with that.” Sackett took a deep breath and gave a small smile, the one for when he’d said something he thought was particularly clever. “Especially not when, as I said, you seem to keep your head despite it.”
Caleb still couldn’t breath. He trusted Sackett to a certain extent but he’d never trusted anyone he had to look in the face again with his secret. And he’d certainly never let anyone on about why he’d actually joined up.
“Now, you have a lot of work to do before you ride out, I suggest you get back to it,” Sackett said before he turned back to his own papers.
Once Sackett turned away it was a little easier and Caleb pulled himself together and decided to ignore it. As long as he didn’t piss Sackett off he would probably be fine. He’d have to trust that.
This is a summary of some of the historical research I did for Chapter 4: WWCD? of my Turn:Washington's Spies fanfic, You've Caught Me Between Wind and Water.
Disclaimer: my information is the result of only two weeks extensive googling. I have focused on Oneida sources for the Oneida material. This is meant as an overview, and I heavily recommend looking into the events and subjects described to supplement your own understanding.
I'm not going to talk about the dozens of articles I read about supply problems the Continental Army endured during Valley Forge because enough is enough. The information is easy to find. It's practically an origin myth.
In this post:
Native/Indigenous Involvement in the American Revolution
Oneida Language
Tehawenkaragwen, or Han Yerry (Hanyery, Honyery, Han Ury)
Sea Shanties
Sackett's Cryptography
Native/Indigenous Involvement in the American Revolution
I cannot overstate the importance of Indigenous contributions to the American fight for independence and the British attempts to quell it.
By the 18th Century, the many Indigenous nations were a powerful political force in their own right. They were vital trade partners and it behooved both the colonists and the colonizers to make important and life-saving trade and political alliances with them.
For the start of the American Revolution, the Indigenous tribes (loosely comprising here the Six Nations (Oneida, Mohawk, Tuscarora, Seneca, Onondaga and Cayuga) along the other tribes, such as the Algonquin, the Mikmak, etc.) were neutral--and this was a lot of political pressure they wielded, because they could often threaten to side with the others if trade agreements were unfavourable. Eventually though, and I'll be narrowing in on the Six Nations, cause that's kind of what I understand the best from my research, sides were taken.
The Six Nations overwhelmingly sided with the British: Cayuga, Onondaga, Tuscarora, Seneca and Mohawk, often making up almost half the fighting force on the field. The Oneida, due to where they were living, i.e. in closer proximity to and having stronger trade ties with the Continentals, sided with the Patriots.
Now--this was not clear cut. Individuals within the tribes could lean either way. And often, this provided a means to parlay formally between the British and the Americans, for example, through Mohawk-Oneida connections.
The Battle of Oriskany featured such a pre-battle parlay, between the Oneida teenager Paulus and the Mohawk chief Joseph Brant. This link provides some great information on the Oneida-Mohawk relationships in the Revolution, particularly leading up to the Battle of Oriskany.
You really get the sense that, despite how contemporary portrayals brush it under the rug, political ties within the Six Nations and other Indigenous tribes hugely affected allegiances and outcomes of the war.
This quote really says it best:
During the Revolutionary War, Oneidas bound themselves “to hold the Covenant Chain with the United States, and with them to be buried in the same, or to enjoy the fruits of victory and peace” (Duane, 1778). Choosing to ally with the young United States, the Oneida Nation served the American cause with fidelity, effectiveness, and at terrible cost.
The Oneida also famously arrived at Valley Forge in May 1778 with, it is said, anywhere between 60 and 600 bushels of corn for the army. It was a relief mission.
In my story, I’ve massaged events a little (mostly because I completely messed up the timeline while I was researching, mea culpa) and the Oneida will save the day much earlier. I figure a little gratitude is overdue, so I’m not fussed with this detail.
Oneida Language
The two phrases used in the story were chosen after looking through an Oneida language source (useful, but beyond what I needed) and then consulting an Oneida-made youtube video. Languages evolve with time, and it is worth noting that Oneida now likely sounded different than Oneida in 1777.
Tehawenkaragwen, or Han Yerry (Hanyery, Honyery, Han Ury)
I had the toughest time researching this man. Considering he was a chief warrior in one of the bloodiest battles of the Revolution, not to mention an important political ally, the fact that he is memorialized as an "Indian guide” is... deeply unsatisfying and undignified.
There's also very little known, or at least available to read, about things a fiction author would value: his demeanor, his appearance, his values.
His characterization in my story I have based mostly on this account, see "Hanyery at Oriskany." He's described as being in his fifties, fearless, competent and evidently much admired. His wife, Tyonajanegen, and his son fought with him at Oriskany. When Han Yerry was shot through his wrist, on horseback, his wife would load his gun for him so he could still shoot.
There is only one other specific account of Han Yerry in his role as a chief and interlocutor. It is... horribly biased, awfully phrased, and reads like... *flaps hands, shakes head* Forget it. All I took from it is that Han Yerry is referred to as the "leading chief of the Confederacy" and interfaced with Patriot magistrates.
My description of him is deliberately light, as there are no paintings or accounts I could find that suggest what dress or ceremonial/practical items he would keep on him in his capacity as a chief, or as a warrior. (And frankly, I'm not sure that I would trust a Western portrait.)
I also wanted him to speak words that were spoken through Oneida oral tradition:
As the Oneidas expressed it: “In the late war with the people on the other side of the great water and at a period when thick darkness overspread this country, your brothers the Oneidas stepped forth, and uninvited took up the hatchet in your defense. We fought by your side, our blood flowed together, and the bones of our warriors mingled with yours” (Hough 1861 1:124).
In 2x01, Caleb calls him Han Yerry, and he is credited as such, so I used this version of his name.
Sea Shanties
To start with, please behold this glorious master post by @gerrydelano.
There is no reason for Caleb to be singing "Santiana" other than that it is currently my favourite shanty. "Santiana" describes events that take place during the Mexican-American War in 1846-1848. So, you know, a good seventy years after this story is set. I was going to look up era-appropriate songs, then ran into this baffling article that declares that sea shanties were a thing that had fallen into disuse by 1777. Given the highly romanticized and very lucrative economy of whaling and seafaring in the 18th Century, I find that hard to believe. And at any point, I remembered that this is fanfic and I can do what I want, so, Santiana it is.
Sackett's Cryptography
In 1x06 "Mr. Culpeper", Sackett discusses his favourite methods of encryption, including Rossignol, Trithemius, and Dumas then promptly roasts Ben for not using any encryption at all. These are all single substitution ciphers, where individual letters, syllables or words are substituted by numbers.
The Spartan scytale, which I name-dropped, is a transposition cipher, where the text itself is unaltered but the letters are put out of order. It indeed, as the name suggests, dates back to fifth century B.C.E.
A polyalphabetic cipher like the Vigenère cipher, a very complicated substitution cipher, had already been invented by the 18th Century, and wouldn't be cracked until 1863. A downside of this cipher is its complexity and the time it takes to compose a message (though I'm not sure it's less secure than keeping copies of codebooks with multiple agents).
