{"product_id":"red-platoon-isbn-9781101984338","title":"Red Platoon","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eTHE \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe only comprehensive, firsthand account of the fourteen-hour firefight at the Battle of Keating in Afghanistan by Medal of Honor recipient Clinton Romesha, for readers of \u003ci\u003eBlack Hawk Down \u003c\/i\u003eby Mark Bowden and \u003ci\u003eLone Survivor\u003c\/i\u003e by Marcus Luttrell.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e“‘It doesn't get better.’ To us, that phrase nailed one of the essential truths, maybe even the essential truth, about being stuck at an outpost whose strategic and tactical vulnerabilities were so glaringly obvious to every soldier who had ever set foot in that place that the name itself—Keating—had become a kind of backhanded joke.”\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003eIn 2009, Clinton Romesha of Red Platoon and the rest of the Black Knight Troop were preparing to shut down Command Outpost (COP) Keating, the most remote and inaccessible in a string of bases built by the US military in Nuristan and Kunar in the hope of preventing Taliban insurgents from moving freely back and forth between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Three years after its construction, the army was finally ready to concede what the men on the ground had known immediately: it was simply too isolated and too dangerous to defend. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e On October 3, 2009, after years of constant smaller attacks, the Taliban finally decided to throw everything they had at Keating. The ensuing fourteen-hour battle—and eventual victory—cost eight men their lives. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is the riveting firsthand account of the Battle of Keating, told by Romesha, who spearheaded both the defense of the outpost and the counterattack that drove the Taliban back beyond the wire and received the Medal of Honor for his actions.“This ranks among the best combat narratives written in recent decades, revealing Romesha as a brave and skilled soldier as well as a gifted writer....Romesha remains humble and self-effacing throughout, in a contrast with many other first-person battle accounts, and his powerful, action-packed book is likely to stand as a classic of the genre.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The book is riveting in its authentic detail....Romesha ably captures the daily dangers faced by these courageous American soldiers in Afghanistan.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“[Romesha’s] account displays all the hallmarks of superlative wartime reporting: unflinching honesty; vivid, in-the-trenches description; and deeper reflections on the pathos of battle.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“[A] clear and expertly crafted account of an iconic fight during the Afghan War.”—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is] compelling and rich with detail into a world most of us will not experience. It will make readers really think about what soldiers go through for their country. Romesha is a great storyteller, knowing how to draw you in and leave you breathless.”—\u003ci\u003eNews and Sentinel\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“I couldn’t recommend [this] book, \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e, any higher.”—Bill O'Reilly\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An amazing read....A gripping account of men in desperate combat against an overwhelming enemy.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Tampa Bay Tribune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Romesha’s] experiences blaze the pages of his new memoir.”—\u003ci\u003eInvestor’s Business Daily\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The battle, from start to finish, is riveting....I’m confident in saying that anyone who reads the full account—from the initial assault to the end of the attack—will be sucked into the action.”—Conservative Book Club\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is an exceptional book....[A] meticulous and powerful telling of the 2009 battle at COP Keating in Afghanistan.”—Military.com\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It is a gripping read. It's something that will have you gasping as you hold your breath, rooting for Romesha and his comrades to prevail. More important, it is something that rises to the level of literature in its portrayal of a battle most Americans probably know nothing about, as a part of a war our country still seems to be struggling to understand.”—\u003ci\u003eGrand Forks Herald\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“What sets \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e apart is Romesha’s thoroughness in recounting the frantic scramble of events.”—\u003ci\u003eHerald and News\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“It is so well written you're likely to feel you're in the middle of the action....\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e will make you marvel at the courage of our young men in the face of a much larger force and the stupidity of the generals who put them there.”—\u003ci\u003eMinneapolis Star-Tribune\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“This compellingly candid detail written by Medal of Honor recipient Clinton Romesha tells of the grisly tumult of the Battle of Keating through the rawest of lenses—his own.”—\u003ci\u003eParade\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e by Medal of Honor recipient Clinton Romesha will probably prove to be the definitive literary contribution of the war in Afghanistan.”—\u003ci\u003eLincoln Journal Star\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I read the first half of \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e in one sitting and that night had such intense combat dreams that I actually thought twice about picking the book up again. In addition to being a superb soldier, Romesha is an utterly irresistible writer. I'm completely overwhelmed by what he has done with this book. The assault on Camp Keating is a vitally important story that needs to be understood by the public, and I cannot imagine an account that does it better justice that Romesha's.”—Sebastian Junger, journalist and author of \u003ci\u003eThe Perfect Storm\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Rendered hour by hour and sometimes second by second, here is battle narrative the way it's supposed to be written. Gritty, plangent, and unflinching, \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is sure to become a classic of the genre. Through his courageous and no doubt painful act of remembrance, Romesha has done his comrades, indeed all of us, a great service\u003ci\u003e—\u003c\/i\u003eleaving an epitaph that will live through the ages.”—Hampton Sides, author of \u003ci\u003eGhost Soldiers\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eIn the Kingdom of Ice\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is riveting. Like many who were in either Iraq, Afghanistan, or both, I often read books about the wars reluctantly, because it is hard to capture the essence of the experience. In my view \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is a brilliant book. Had Clint Romesha depicted the soldiers at Keating as a collection of steely-eyed warriors, their feat would have been impressive. Because he captures the reality of a collection of personalities as diverse as America itself, their courage is truly inspiring.”—General Stanley McChrystal, U.S. Army, Retired\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e celebrates the most crucial aspect of military operations: the team. Clinton Romesha and the men of Black Knight Troop faced harrowing conditions and a determined enemy during the Battle for COP Keating, and in the process discovered exactly who they are. This account is an important tribute to everyone who fought, and especially to the eight Americans who on that day made the ultimate sacrifice for their country.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eMark Owen, author of \u003ci\u003eNo Easy Day \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eNo Hero\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e exemplifies the courage and resiliency our country was founded on. Clint is a true brother and a man that I look up to.”—Dakota Meyer, Medal of Honor recipient and author of\u003ci\u003e Into the Fire\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e“The men of Red Platoon and their actions at COP Keating deserve to be known. Clint Romesha's story takes hold from page one and makes you feel every inch of the battle, but it is the bond between soldiers that will stick with you. \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e is on my list of the best books about the Afghan war.”—Kevin Maurer, bestselling coauthor of \u003ci\u003eNo Easy Day\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A visceral, heart-pounding account of men in close-quarter combat that is simply impossible to put down. Astonishingly intimate and beautifully written. A word of advice: don't start this book if you're planning on doing anything else for the next few hours.”—Scott Anderson, author of\u003ci\u003e \u003ci\u003eLawrence in Arabia\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Danger and death accompany combat. When unexpectedly surrounded and outnumbered by a Taliban enemy force, the stakes soared. Responses by the men of Keating were courageous. Led by Staff Sergeant Clint Romesha, this band of brothers countered with supreme valor. This true story will make you proud of the American soldier. You will not want to put \u003ci\u003eRed Platoon\u003c\/i\u003e down.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eColonel Bill Smullen, U.S. Army, RetiredFormer Staff Sergeant \u003cb\u003eClinton L. Romesha \u003c\/b\u003eenlisted in the Army in 1999. He deployed twice to Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom, and once to Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. At the time of the deadly attack on Combat Outpost (COP) Keating on October 3, 2009, Staff Sergeant Romesha was assigned as a section leader for Bravo Troop, 3-61st Cavalry, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 4th Infantry Division. He is the recipient of numerous awards and decorations, including the Medal of Honor, which has been received by only twelve others for the heroism they displayed while serving in Iraq or Afghanistan. Romesha separated from the Army in 2011. He lives with his family in North Dakota.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Loss\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I come from an old Nevada ranching family with military traditions      that date back to my grandfather Aury Smith, who took his      brother's place in the draft during the summer of 1943 and      eventually wound up getting sent into Normandy as a combat      engineer just a couple of days after D-day. Six months later, Aury      got himself stuck inside the besieged perimeter of Bastogne with      the 101st Airborne Division during the Battle of the Bulge.      Somehow he made it through, then finished out his time in Europe      helping to put on USO shows as a bareback rodeo rider.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Almost thirty years later, my dad was sent to Vietnam. And      although he never said a single word about either of the two tours      that he pulled up near the Cambodian border with the 4th Infantry      Division, which was known to have taken some horrendous casualties      during that time, his silence carried enough weight that all three      of his sons enlisted in the military.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My oldest brother, Travis, enlisted in the army right after high      school, participated in the invasion of Haiti, then later      transferred to the air force. Next in line was Preston, who      hitched up with the marines. By the time I was a senior in Lake      City, California, a town so tiny that our high school graduating      class numbered only fifteen, my brothers assumed that I would join      up too, despite my father's hopes that I might break the mold and      follow the path he'd laid out by enrolling me in the Mormon      seminary I had been attending since ninth grade.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My brothers were right. I joined the army in September of 1999,      and was assigned to Black Knight Troop, a mechanized armor unit      whose sixty-five men were spread across three platoons: Red,      White, and Blue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In military jargon, Black Knight belonged to the four-thousand-man      4th Brigade Combat Team, which itself was part of the      twenty-thousand-man 4th Infantry Division. In laymen's terms, what      that boiled down to was that I was a tiny cog nestled deep inside      the world's largest and most sophisticated war machine. It also      meant that I was part of the very same infantry division in which      my dad had served.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My first deployment was to Kosovo, where we performed peacekeeping      duties and saw very little action. But following the attacks on      the World Trade Center in 2001, I volunteered to go to Iraq. After      a fifteen-month detour through Korea, I found myself commanding an      M1A1 armored tank in Habbaniyah, an area about fifty miles west of      Baghdad that sits directly between Ramadi and Fallujah. There we      spent the better part of 2004 battling hard-core Al Qaeda fighters      who specialized in improvised explosives. We took an average of      roughly one IED strike per day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At the end of that first Iraq deployment, we were sent back to      Colorado and the entire unit was reclassified from heavy armor to      light reconnaissance so that we could start preparing for the type      of fighting we'd eventually be facing in Afghanistan. As part of      that transition, I was shipped off to school to learn how to be a      cavalry scout. Eleven months later, in June of 2006, we were back      in Iraq, this time in a place called Salman Pak, about twenty      miles south of Baghdad along a broad bend of the Tigris River and      not far from a notorious military installation rumored to serve as      a keystone of Saddam Hussein's biological and chemical weapons      program. It was also a hotbed of extremist militia, and they did      their best to make our lives as miserable as possible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e This was where my new training really began to kick in.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A cavalry scout is generally thought to function as the eyes and      ears of a commander during battle. But in fact, a scout's role      extends quite a bit further. We refer to ourselves as      \"jacks-of-all-trades, masters of none,\" and we are trained to have      a working familiarity with-quite literally-every job in the army.      We are experts in reconnaissance, countersurveillance, and      navigation, but we're also extremely comfortable with all aspects      of radio and satellite communications. We know how to assemble and      deploy three-man hunter\/killer teams. We're pretty good at blowing      things up using mines and high explosives. We can function as      medics, vehicle mechanics, and combat engineers. And we have a      thorough understanding of every single weapons system, from a 9-mm      handgun to a 120-mm howitzer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Many soldiers find it challenging to master such an eclectic skill      set. So it was odd that it all came so easily to me. Prior to the      military, I found school to be quite difficult, especially when it      came to abstract ideas. But these new disciplines came to me so      instinctively that it was almost disturbing. Regardless of whether      it was small-unit tactics or maneuvering an entire company's worth      of armor, the logic seemed inherently obvious. What's more, I      loved every aspect of being a scout-although I had a particular      knack for something called \"react-to-contact\" drills, which      involved coming up with a combat plan on the spur of the moment as      the shit was hitting the fan.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There were two things, however, that didn't come easily at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The first had to do with the position in which we found ourselves      in Iraq, where we were consigned to a reactive role, and where we      found ourselves bound by strict rules of engagement, or ROEs, that      prevented us from shooting first-which meant that we were usually      able to return fire only when attacked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I found this intolerable not only from a tactical standpoint but      also at a psychological level. And to compensate, I developed an      unorthodox style of leadership that hinged on provoking a reaction      from the enemy. When I was leading an armored convoy, for example,      I would often order my tank driver to abruptly switch lanes,      taking the entire column down a city street directly against the      flow of traffic, forcing oncoming vehicles to get out of the way      or risk head-on collision. At the extreme end of things, I would      even use myself as a decoy. To ferret out snipers, for example, I      would climb onto the sponson box, a big rectangular storage      compartment on the turret of our lead tank, pretend it was a      surfboard, and balance myself out there as we clattered through      the streets of Habbaniyah, daring any Iraqi marksmen to take a      shot at me and expose their positions.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Often these tactics worked well, although they never fully      relieved my frustration with the rules of engagement. But as      impossible as I found the ROEs, this challenge was dwarfed by a      second problem, one that arose as an inevitable consequence of      serving in a leadership position in a war zone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What I found harder than anything else, by far, was witnessing one      of my guys get killed. The first time this happened to me was just      outside of Sadr City, and it involved one of the finest soldiers      I've ever known.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The summer and fall of 2007 was a bad time for all three frontline      platoons in Black Knight Troop. By this point we were several      months into a new strategy in which the administration of George      W. Bush attempted to stabilize Iraq by sending in five additional      brigades while extending the tour of almost every soldier who was      already on deployment. While the surge did lead to a drop in      overall violence, for reasons that remained mysterious (and which      may simply have resulted from bad luck), our troop started getting      hit harder and more often. In September, one of White PlatoonÕs      team leaders got shot in the back, and although he survived, the      bullet severed his spine and paralyzed him from the chest down.      Not long after that, White lost two other men to a roadside bomb.      And then, in September, Snell got hit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Eric Snell was a thirty-four-year-old scout when I first met him      in Iraq, but even as a newly enlisted private he'd managed to      stand out as something extraordinary. He had been drafted as an      outfielder for the Cleveland Indians straight out of high school      in Trenton, New Jersey, but he had decided to forgo a career in      the major leagues and instead focus on academics. He got a degree      in political science, then moved to South Africa to work as a      project manager for AT\u0026amp;T. He could speak French and he'd lived      in Italy. He was also good-looking enough that he'd been recruited      as a male model, appearing in magazines like Mademoiselle, Modern      Bride, and Vibe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Snell had the entire package, and he brought all of it to the task      of being the type of soldier that did everything perfectly. You      never had to give him an order or an instruction twice. He learned      fast and he learned well. He showed initiative and he demonstrated      leadership. In fact, that only thing that seemed even remotely off      about the guy was the confusion he provoked among the rest of us      over why he had signed on as an ordinary soldier in the first      place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"For Chrissake, Snell, you got all this education and all these      credentials,\" we'd say to him. \"Why the fuck did you come into the      army as enlisted?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well, yeah, I'm gonna go and be an officer one day,\" was his      response. \"But first I want to know what it's like to be a      soldier.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That impressed us too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He was promoted to sergeant two years after he enlisted, far ahead      of his peers. Just over two weeks later, on September 18, 2007, me      and him and two other guys were ordered to perform overwatch just      outside of Sadr City on a group of Iraqi soldiers who were setting      up concrete barriers to block suicide bombers. White Platoon had      been on duty for most of that morning and our captain had ordered      Red to relieve them-an idea that me and my platoon sergeant deemed      unwise, because if there were any snipers in the area, they now      knew our pattern of movement.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Our objections were overruled, so me and Snell started setting up      our perimeter security. I was leaning inside the Humvee,      coordinating on the radio with another platoon on the other side      of the battle space, and Snell was standing right beside me in      back of the vehicle with just his head exposed, when a sniper from      across the way got him. The bullet came in just beneath the lip of      his helmet, went through his right eye, and blew out the back of      his head. As soon as I looked down and saw him lying on the      ground, I knew he was dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was the first time I'd seen one of my own guys get killed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Up to that point, I'd been convinced that there was some sort of      connection between how good you were and what happened to you in      the theater of battle. But after watching Snell get assassinated      like that, I realized that one of the fundamental truths about war      is that horrible things can-and often will-happen to anybody, even      to a soldier who has everything dialed to perfection.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the days that followed, I found myself wrestling with the      implications of this. While you could strive to be your best, and      while you could demand that everyone under you adhered to those      standards, the reality was that in the end, none of this might      make a rat's ass of difference-even for an ace like Snell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When you lose a man like that, it can fuel a sense of resignation      that can be totally debilitating. If there is no causal link      between merit and destiny-if everything on the battlefield boils      down to nothing more than a lottery-what's the point of bothering      to hone your skills or cultivate excellence?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The loss can create a practical problem too. When a soldier as      good as Snell gets drilled through the brain, even if you want to      try to replace him, how could you ever find someone to fill his      shoes?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As it turned out, however, the rotten luck of losing Snell wound      up having a silver lining to it because it triggered the arrival      of a soldier who was destined to become my right-hand man in      Afghanistan. A man who would provide the foundation of what Red      Platoon was to become, and what it would later accomplish during      its trial by fire in Afghanistan.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e About a month after Snell died, a batch of new replacements      arrived in Iraq from Fort Carson, just outside of Colorado      Springs, to fill the ranks of our dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Whenever a surge of soldiers arrived, the sergeants from all three      platoons would size up the new guys and then haggle over how to      divvy them up. These assessment-and-bargaining sessions were often      intense because the outcome would have a big impact on the quality      of each platoon. And the criteria on which everything hinged      basically boiled down to our greatest pastime: platoon-on-platoon      football.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Ray Didinger, a sportswriter who covered the NFL for more than      twenty-five years, once said that football is the \"truest\" team      game because nothing happens if all the players aren't performing      their roles to perfection. \"Everyone has to contribute on every      single play,\" he argued. \"You could have the guys up front all do      everything exactly the way they're supposed to; but if one guy      breaks down-if he doesn't get the play right or goes in the wrong      direction-then the whole play falls apart.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That's not a bad summary of small-unit military tactics      either-especially when you consider that football is all about      assaulting another team's territory, then holding that ground      against a series of counterassaults. Plus, and this is Didinger      again, \"football is also a violent game and the guys who play it      have to accept that fact.\" Maybe that's why we bonded so deeply      with the game-especially in Red Platoon, where we took it with      such hyperseriousness that we literally went for years without      losing a single platoon-on-platoon matchup.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Brad Larson was a recruit from Chambers, Nebraska, a town whose      population (288) was almost as tiny as the miniscule spot where      I'd come from. He had jug-handle ears that kicked out from the      sides of his head, cartoonishly thick eyebrows, and almost nothing      to suggest that he possessed the sort of athletic prowess we were      looking for in Red Platoon. So when we wound up getting stuck with      him, I initially made a point of ignoring the guy and saying as      little to him as possible, despite the fact that he was serving as      the driver of my Humvee. Aside from \"go left\" and \"turn right,\" I      don't think I directed a single word to him for more than two      weeks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As it turned out, Larson had played free safety at the junior      college he'd attended in Nebraska before joining the army. But as      we discovered after finally condescending to allow him on the      field during one of our platoon-on-platoon games, he could play      just about anywhere because he was so astonishingly fast. Even      more impressive was his uncanny sense of vision. Whenever the      quarterback drew back his arm to throw, Larson knew exactly where      the ball was heading. Except for one guy who had a weird sidearm      throw that was almost impossible to read, Larson could figure out      where the ball was headed just by looking at the quarterback's      eyes and the angle of his forearm. And then, thanks to his      ferocious speed, he was able to make a beeline for that spot and      destroy whoever was the target.","brand":"Dutton","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300307292389,"sku":"NP9781101984338","price":21.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781101984338.jpg?v=1767735548","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/red-platoon-isbn-9781101984338","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}