September 11, American Manufacturing, and the Strength We Must Rebuild

By Chris Vick, Founder of Squatch Survival Gear

My name is Chris Vick. I am the founder of Squatch Survival Gear, a veteran-owned American gear manufacturer based in San Antonio, Texas. Before starting Squatch, I served as an Army Infantry officer with the 82nd Airborne and the 18th Airborne Corps, including deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq. That experience shaped how I think about preparedness, leadership, equipment, and America’s ability to produce what it needs.

Key takeaway: September 11 and COVID exposed the same national weakness: America cannot remain secure if it loses the ability to manufacture essential products. Squatch Survival Gear believes preparedness begins with capable people, practical skills, dependable equipment, and American production capacity.

How Did September 11 Change My Life?

September 11 changed everything for me—and for America. I was already in the Army and serving with the 18th Airborne Corps after previously serving with the 82nd Airborne. I had gone to the 82nd by choice because I wanted to serve, and because I wanted the test. I knew war was always a possibility.

When the attacks happened, we were in the field. We came out of the field and went straight to guard duty. Like millions of Americans, we understood immediately that something had changed. The country had been attacked, and a response was coming.

Even then, I could see that some leaders at the battalion level and above struggled to think like the enemy. At the time, I did not understand how serious that weakness would become during the years of the Global War on Terror. We had plans to deploy and fight, but too often we lacked a clear plan for the peace that was supposed to follow. We also lacked a serious system for holding partners and allies accountable when American money was wasted or misused.

America was defiant after September 11, but not in the way the country had been in earlier wars. There was no draft. Only a small part of the country went to war, while most Americans continued with daily life. Our government told people to be alert and afraid. It did far less to ask them to become stronger, more capable, more self-reliant, or more willing to sacrifice.

At the time, protecting ourselves through more government authority seemed reasonable to many people. Looking back, I believe fear became a substitute for preparedness. Too many Americans handed over more power with too few questions, while Congress did less to protect the industrial capacity that real national security requires.

What Did I See After Leaving the Army?

By 2007, years of wear and tear had taken a toll on my body. I was not injured badly enough for medical retirement, but I was no longer in good enough condition to remain in the Army. When the Army separated me, I moved into corporate America and spent about three years in the energy sector.

I saw how fragile that sector could be. I also saw laws, regulations, and corporate practices that protected companies already inside the system while making it harder for new competitors to enter. The paperwork and expense might look manageable from the top, but for a small business they can decide whether an idea survives.

The economic downturn made that transition harder. In 2010, I returned overseas as a contractor—first in Saudi Arabia and later in Afghanistan—training local nationals to fight their own wars. That work reinforced a lesson I had already learned: outside help may buy time, but lasting strength has to be built and owned by the people who will depend on it.

Why Is American Manufacturing Part of National Security?

While I was away, American manufacturing that was not tied in some way to the military-industrial complex kept disappearing. Companies decided it was cheaper to buy a lower-quality product from overseas than to maintain the skill, machinery, suppliers, and workers needed to make it here.

By the time I worked in the energy sector, nearly everything a person wore on many job sites—including much of the protective equipment—came from overseas. This was treated as an ordinary business decision. It was actually a strategic decision, and we made it repeatedly without admitting the risk.

A country that cannot produce essential medicine, protective equipment, tools, clothing, and field gear is not fully independent. It may have money, technology, and military power, but it remains exposed to foreign governments, shipping disruptions, and suppliers whose interests do not always match ours.

Some of the nations supplying America openly oppose us. Others tolerate factions that do. Even friendly nations will put their own citizens first during a crisis. That is what governments are expected to do. The failure is ours when we build a system that assumes another country will always supply what Americans need, precisely when everyone needs it most.

What Did COVID Reveal About American Dependence?

COVID made this dependence impossible to ignore. The United States relied heavily on foreign sources for medicine and pharmaceutical ingredients, including production connected to China and India. India was also central to global vaccine manufacturing, while China remained deeply embedded in the supply chains for masks, protective equipment, electronics, and countless manufactured goods.

When the crisis came, those countries focused first on their own needs. That should not have surprised anyone. The surprise is how little the United States changed after the vulnerability became visible. We discussed resilience, but too often returned to the same purchasing habits, incentives, and dependencies.

What Has Building Squatch Survival Gear Taught Me?

Building Squatch Survival Gear has shown me how difficult it is to manufacture in America at a small scale. We flirt with going out of business almost every year, and this year is no different. The closer we try to get to a truly American supply chain, the more obstacles we find.

Take something as ordinary as a baseball cap. It can be easier to find an overseas-made cap and add one American-made component than it is to find a cap whose materials, components, and labor are all American. In our experience, even many of the best industrial sewing machines are manufactured overseas. The country did not lose only factories; it lost layers of suppliers, machine makers, skilled workers, and practical knowledge.

Small manufacturers seeking government work face a growing administrative burden. Businesses may need an active SAM.gov registration, a Unique Entity ID, a CAGE code, and other listings, certifications, or documentation. The former DUNS identifier was retired from federal use in 2022, but many people still encounter old instructions or private business-listing requirements. At minimum, the process takes time. At maximum, it takes time and money a small company may not have.

There is no dependable system that ensures federal purchasing strengthens small and medium-sized American manufacturers throughout the supply chain. Set-asides and domestic-content rules exist, but they do not automatically rebuild missing capabilities or make the smallest producers visible to buyers.

Everything can and will eventually wear out. Our goal is not to promise otherwise. Our goal is to make gear that earns trust through durable design, repairable thinking, quality materials, and honest expectations. Dependable gear creates a measure of certainty: you can focus on the work, the trip, or the emergency instead of wondering whether your equipment was designed to be disposable.

Every Squatch purchase helps keep American sewing shops working, keeps production skills alive, and keeps us moving forward—growing and innovating when and where we can. Buying from us is not charity. It is a decision to choose useful equipment while supporting the capacity to make more of it here.

What Did the September 11 Boatlift Show Us?

The September 11 boatlift in New York showed what Americans can do when ordinary people are trusted to act. With bridges and tunnels closed and Lower Manhattan cut off, the Coast Guard called for all available boats. Ferries, tugboats, tour boats, private vessels, and crews answered.

Estimates vary, but roughly 300,000 to 500,000 people were carried away from Manhattan in less than nine hours. Dunkirk evacuated about 338,000 Allied troops over several days. The New York boatlift became the largest waterborne evacuation in American history—not because one agency had planned every movement, but because government issued the call and Americans moved.

That is the America I remember from September 12: united, practical, brave, and ready to help. The capacity was already there in boat captains, deckhands, police, firefighters, workers, neighbors, and strangers. They did not wait for perfect instructions. They saw what needed to be done and did it.

What Can One American Do?

In the years that followed, politicians resumed dividing us. Corporations continued moving production abroad. Too many Americans accepted the old program: get a good job, avoid risk, and assume the large institutions will remain stable. But those corporations have been cutting jobs, offshoring work, and replacing local capability with remote labor and distant supply chains.

At the same time, skilled trades are thinning out. In many places, an electrician’s visit can cost hundreds of dollars before the problem is diagnosed—not because skilled work lacks value, but because fewer people were encouraged to learn it. We told generations to seek credentials while neglecting the people who wire homes, repair machines, sew equipment, build tools, and keep communities functioning.

America used to celebrate risk-takers. We went to the moon not because it was easy, but because it was hard. We built businesses, factories, tools, and communities because creating something mattered.

We need that spirit again.

No one person can rebuild American manufacturing alone. But every person can pick one thing. Learn one practical skill. Repair one item instead of replacing it. Buy one product from a real American maker. Teach one young person how to use tools. Start the business you keep talking yourself out of. Ask where the things you depend on are made—and who will still be able to make them when the supply chain breaks.

People change when they finally get sick and tired of being sick and tired. Nations do, too. The way back begins when enough Americans decide that dependence is not convenience, fear is not preparedness, and decline is not inevitable.

If you choose Squatch, understand what that choice supports. It supports American labor, American production knowledge, and one small veteran-owned manufacturer trying to keep moving forward. It supports equipment meant to be used, trusted, maintained, and replaced honestly when its useful life is finally over.

Twenty-five years after September 11, remembering is not enough. We honor courage best by practicing it ourselves.

Every purchase keeps us moving forward. Choose American-made gear.

About the Author

Chris Vick is the founder and owner of Squatch Survival Gear, a veteran-owned American gear manufacturer in San Antonio, Texas. He served as an Army Infantry officer with the 82nd Airborne and completed deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq. Squatch Survival Gear works with American manufacturers to produce durable packs and equipment using American materials, components, and labor.