I found this article that addresses the disastrous effects the bomb, Little Boy had on Hiroshima.
The article calls the ones who have been extremely effected, as ‘ant-walking alligators’—creatures of the blast that seemed neither human nor animal, neither living nor dead.’
It goes on to say
They had once been human. When the sky exploded, they’d had the misfortune to survive. Faces turned to the blast, the skin had been seared from their skulls; leaving only a black, leathery substance without eyes or features. All that remained was a red hole where their mouths had once been. They staggered about the outskirts of Hiroshima, avoided by other survivors – but the real horror was the sound they made. According to Pellegrino:
“The alligator people did not scream. Their mouths could not form the sounds. The noise they made was worse than screaming. They uttered a continuous murmur — like locusts on a midsummer night. One man, staggering on charred stumps of legs, was carrying a dead baby upside down.”
It’s terrifying but I don’t want you to look at these “ant-walk alligators” as “creatures” but as real people, who went through something we can’t even begin to imagine.
The 1950s were the Atomic Age. Not only was everyone afraid that The Bomb was going to blow the world to smithereens, but that man’s meddling in areas best left unmeddled would unleash a plague of GIANT CREATURES. Whether freed from their long-dormant prehistoric hideouts or hideously mutated into tremendous size, gigantic beasties were the order of the day. And this phase only really lasted from the mid-’50s to until around 1959 or so in America. After that span of time, I think we all realized that we’d much rather be watching imported Japanese movies of men in monster suits beating the holy hell out of other men in monster suits, all done on miniature sets. But that’s a subject for another day…