The hopes, dreams, achievements and fears of America's Hmong surfaced at a Sacramento banquet Thursday night -- along with a sense that the U.S. government, their greatest benefactor, had betrayed them again.

The man who guided the Hmong journey from the mountains and jungles of Laos to a new life of opportunity in America, Gen. Vang Pao, sits in the Sacramento County jail on charges of plotting a violent overthrow of communist Laos.

Vang, 77, is one of 10 men arrested and charged in Sacramento federal court last week with plotting a full-scale coup against Laos that would have included AK-47 assault rifles, ground-to-air Stinger missiles, anti-tank weapons and a mercenary army. The older members of the alleged conspiracy include Hmong men -- Laotian mountain tribesmen -- who followed Vang Pao as he waged war under the CIA's direction against Southeast Asian communists between 1961 and 1975.

Vang, 77, has survived a stroke and heart bypass surgery in recent years and suffers from diabetes and high cholesterol. But many still consider him the heart and soul of America's 250,000 Hmong and the thousands of others still trapped in Thailand and the jungles of Laos, where Amnesty International reports they have been assaulted and murdered by the Laotian military.

At the Hmong Women's Heritage Association's Pathfinder Banquet at the Sacramento Radisson, national leaders from Sacramento to Minnesota spoke of their debt to Vang, who in 1961 was recruited by the CIA to lead a secret jungle army against the communist Pathet Lao and Vietnamese army.

As a boy, Vang had joined the French to fight the Japanese during World War II and later the North Vietnamese. He rose through the ranks in the Lao Royal Army.

During the Vietnam War he became legendary as a brilliant, often ruthless field commander who reportedly couldn't be killed by bullets and had the unqualified loyalty of a guerrilla army of 40,000.

The Hmong grew famous for rescuing U.S. pilots shot down along the Ho Chi Minh trail; according to one account, Vang sacrificed dozens of Hmong warriors to pull two U.S. pilots to safety. Vang's forces are credited with battling an army of 70,000 North Vietnamese to a draw in northern Laos.

"The Hmong, by their courage and guerrilla effectiveness, did a job it would have taken thousands of U.S. troops to do," former CIA Director William Colby told The Bee in 1995. He called Vang "a hero if there were any heroes in that war."

But by 1973, the U.S. was pulling out of Vietnam, leaving tens of thousands of Hmong to fend for themselves.

The United States had promised, "if we win, you win with us, and if we lose, we'll take care of you," said Carl Bernard, a former Army Special Forces leader. If the Hmong hadn't joined the CIA's effort, "they'd still be there on top of their hillsides and they'd be a helluva lot better off," Bernard said.

An estimated 100,000 Hmong were killed in the war and in the retribution exacted after the communist victory in 1975.

Vang was airlifted by U.S. forces out of Long Tieng, his secret air base in Laos, and ultimately made his way to America. Thousands of other Hmong fled through the jungle on foot and crossed into Thailand, where they were crowded into squalid refugee camps.

Thousands more remained in Laos. Most have gone on to live peacefully under the communist regime. But several thousand remain hidden in the Laotian jungle, fearing death or retaliation for their role in the resistance.

In America, Vang became the champion of Hmong worldwide, helping tens of thousands emigrate to the United States, France and Australia, while fueling hopes that one day the Hmong would be able to safely return to their mountain villages.

May Ying Ly, whose father fought with Vang's army, is now executive director of Sacramento's Hmong Women's Heritage Association. Ly said Hmong -- particularly those born in Laos and the Thai camps -- "see VP as a savior, representing our dreams."

"Whatever trouble he's in," she said, "he's still our leader ... I have to admire the guy if he's willing to go down for the cause."

Maybe there's no other way, Ly said, to call attention to the plight of the Hmong still trapped in the Laotian jungles.

To some, the arrest of Vang and his associates represents a second betrayal by the United States, which in the eyes of many abandoned the Hmong in Laos.

Xia Kao Vang, director of Sacramento Lao Family Community Inc., said he can't sleep because he's so worried about what he sees as the U.S. government's sudden change of heart.

"The people in the jungle are pleading for VP to help them, and the U.S. was helping the general from 1978 to 1988, giving him advice on how to overthrow the Laos government," he said.

Tim Fong, director of Asian American studies at California State University, Sacramento, compared the alleged Hmong plot to the Bay of Pigs invasion -- the failed 1961 assault on Cuba by armed Cuban exiles that was financed and planned by the CIA.

"The CIA was involved with hiring the Hmong in Laos from the very beginning," Fong said. "Something's wrong here."

Laura Leonelli, director of the Southeast Asian Assistance Center in Sacramento, questioned the timing of the federal sting operation.

"They've known these guys for 30 years -- why now? We (the U.S. government) can go in and invade a country and depose the government, but God forbid anybody else should try it."

Starting in Santa Ana in 1977, Vang established a network of Lao Family Community centers designed to help Hmong refugees, many of them illiterate. Today, there are eight centers in Minnesota, Wisconsin and California, including one in Sacramento, which opened in 1982.

Since 2000, the Lao Family network has raised more than $40 million through service fees, government grants and donations, according to federal tax forms. Most of the funds have been spent on services such as English tutoring, job training and health care, forms show.

But over the years, Vang's fundraising also has been linked to Hmong rebels in Laos.

Court documents allege Vang was the leader of Neo Hom, also known as the United Lao National Liberation Front. He and his alleged co-conspirators "operated within the general scope" of Neo Hom, according to the documents.

According to defense lawyers for some of the accused, those arrested were trying to help the Hmong in Laos when they attempted to negotiate the purchase of military arms and recruit Army Special Forces and Navy SEALs veterans to fight as mercenaries in an invasion.

But the group unwittingly was negotiating with an undercover agent of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, according to the prosecution's court papers. According to the agent, the co-conspirators claimed to have access to $9.8 million for the purchase of artillery and a mercenary army.

If Vang did play a leading role in the plot, as prosecutors allege, it would run counter to the "New Doctrine" speech he and oldest son Cha Vang gave in St. Paul, Minn., in November 2003.

Vang shocked many Hmong when, according to the national publication Hmong Today, he declared, "It is time to let the past stay in the history books, and to let a new era of peace, prosperity and reconciliation return to Laos."

The Lao Veterans of America, representing 75,000 Hmong, broke with Vang over the speech. "At that point he lost all credibility with his veterans," said the group's Washington director, Phil Smith.

For some, the current allegations serve as proof he never really gave up on the quest for a triumphant return to Laos.

"He has been talking about this from the get-go," said Wameng Moua, 36, the editor of Hmong Today. "He's never really let down from the quixotic dream of finding the (Hmong) homeland."

Over the years, Vang sold promissory notes to thousands of Hmong in exchange for commissions and appointments in Laos when he reclaimed the country.

"For a long time, people just thought he was taking money for taking money, but I guess he's had the big plan all along if the charges are true," Moua said.

Moua said Vang's influence has waned as a new generation of Hmong have come of age in America. About three-quarters of America's 250,000 Hmong are under age 25.

But at Thursday's banquet, Hmong of all ages defended Vang.

"I think he was just trying to help the Hmong people," said Susan Vang, 18, a valedictorian at Burbank High in Sacramento. "The U.S. government told us they'd bring us over and they just left (some of) us there."

Nha Lue Vang, in his mid-50s, is the first Hmong in Sacramento to earn a doctoral degree. "He's our father, our leader, our hero," Lue Vang said. "Because of him, we're alive. If not for him, I wouldn't be here with my doctorate."

Lue Vang called the arrests "very perplexing for the Hmong -- we were always against communism. However, because of 9/11, a lot of things changed."

The progress Hmong have made after three decades in America was embodied Thursday night by the nation's highest-ranking Hmong elected official, Minnesota state Sen. Mee Moua.

Moua spoke of her odyssey from her mountain village in northern Laos to a Thai refugee camp.

She detailed the racism she and her family faced when they arrived in the United States, including the hurled epithets and human waste left on her porch, and how as a child she wanted to chase three assailants with her aluminum T-ball bat. Instead, her mother told her, "go to college and come back and be their boss."

Moua said she looks forward to the day when a Hmong American is the No. 1 pick in the NBA draft, heads a Fortune 500 company and is elected president.

"As a community we are all equally shocked (by the arrests), feeling very vulnerable, and we are searching for answers," she said.

But Moua reminded the crowd that every Hmong American is entitled to due process.

"This is the time for all of us to keep in mind that we are all one family and one community," she said to a standing ovation. "Let's not allow this situation to divide us or in any way erase our achievements and successes in this country over the last 32 years."